


If You're Heads, I'll Be Your Tails

by SeventhMoonlitNight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhMoonlitNight/pseuds/SeventhMoonlitNight
Summary: Daenerys is slowly but surely descending into madness as they prepare to take King's Landing. Arya, knowing what it's like to live for revenge and kill everyone who's done her wrong, enlists herself in making sure Daenerys won't be another name on her list.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 74
Kudos: 485





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This is because I still can't get over the ending and I want redemption for both of my loves. 
> 
> I don't own anything GOT/ASOIAF related but my friend has the Monopoly version of GOT. I lose every time.

**_Chapter I  
  
  
_** Daenerys’ violet eyes roam around the large dining hall. Everyone is celebrating having won the Night Battle. All the wildlings, Northmen and those of her men that seek out warmth are in the dining hall with barely any room for the servants to walk around, spilling into the halls merrily.   
  
Yesterday was for mourning those that were lost. Today is for celebrating those who have survived. And what better way to celebrate than to name a new Lord of Storm’s End? Her eyes had locked with Varys’ and he had nodded in approval.   
  
That had let her know she was making good decisions.  
  
However, as her ears pick up the praises Jon receives, the slaps in the back for all of his hard work, the cheers in his name, she feels a warmth not unlike that of dragonfire start to build in the pit of her stomach.  
  
It feels like everyone is singing praises to the young Stark – no, _Targaryen_ – all the while she’s sitting here, at the Head of the table, being wholly ignored.   
  
She’s the one who has led an entire army into the Long Night. She’s the one with the forces, the numbers that made a hell of a difference during this battle. She’s the one who has lost the most, losing her smallest child, her other being horribly injured – while Jon was riding him. She’s the one who’s sacrificed her men, her time, her children, her life while everyone around has distrusted and insulted her.  
  
She’s the one.  
  
Her.  
  
Daenerys Targaryen.   
  
Not him. Not Jon Snow or Stark or Aegon Targaryen or whoever he decides to be this week.   
  
_Her._  
  
So, when Tormund’s comment of, “Who rides a bloody dragon? A madman or a King!” and seeing Tyrion, her Hand, getting drunk with his traitorous brother, Daenerys stands. She makes eye contact with Varys, who also stands.   
  
He gives her a very specific look, remembers the promise they had made to each other in Dragonstone. He promised to let her know when she’s spiraling, when she’s not living up to his expectation of being a fair ruler.  
  
Daenerys feels overwhelmed so, in an effort to keep it bottled in, she exits the room.   
  
Varys watches her leave, a small frown gracing his face. As soon as she’s out of the room, his eyes roam in order to see if he’s the only one who’s noticed. His brown eyes lock with gray ones across the room. He tries not to flinch when Arya Stark’s gaze penetrates right through him.   
  
Arya watches him for a moment longer before she turns her attention to the door Daenerys just left through. Her eyes move back towards Varys and she sees something in his eyes that sets her on edge.  
  
So, pushing off the wall she’s leaning against and ignoring the rambles of Gendry – something about becoming his Lady of Storm’s End, the fool – beside her, she sets to go find the Queen.  
  
Varys watches her leave, emotions warring inside him. He tries to make sense of the fact that his Queen is falling into madness and the Hero of Winterfell had watched it happen and decided to give chase.  
  
While not sure what to do, he sits back down, praying to the Gods that everything works out.  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Daenerys stops once inside the Godswoods, knowing no one really would be here at this time, not with all the celebrations going on. She traces the sap falling down the bark of the Weirwood tree with her eyes.  
  
There’s something calming about the air here. Whether that’s the almost sacred atmosphere or the way that it kind of reminds her vaguely of a house with a red door and lemon tree in the back. She can almost feel the paranoia going away, tension leaving her shoulders slowly.  
  
Until she hears footsteps behind her.  
  
Looking over her shoulder, she watches as Arya Stark walks by her and stops in front of the tree. She places her gloved hand on the trunk, closes her eyes and bows her head.  
  
Daenerys watches her for a few moments before moving closer.   
  
Arya makes no move to acknowledge her and, while earlier the Queen didn’t like how ignored she was, now she’s glad for it.  
  
The silence between them stretched for long moments, and it doesn’t escape either of them how this is the first time they’ve been in the same vicinity without someone else around. This was truly the first time they’ve been alone together in the many weeks the Dragon Queen has been in Winterfell.  
  
However, Arya didn’t come here to admire the scenery with the Queen. Raising her head, she breaks the silence.  
  
“I saw the way you were looking at Jon.”  
  
Daenerys rolls her shoulders back, staring at her head. Her eyes pierce through the Stark’s head as she responds. “I see. And are you here to kill me, to now become Hero of Westeros?”  
  
The words are said mockingly and Arya grins wryly, appreciating the sarcasm. She turns around and leans against the tree, crossing her arms.  
  
“I’ve yet to decide.”   
  
Their eyes lock, fiery violet clashing with cool steel. Daenerys grits her teeth, this girl was somehow getting under her skin without even seeming to try.  
  
Arya sees how quick the Queen was to lose her temper and decides to stop playing games.  
  
“I think you’re the only other person in this continent who wants to see Cersei dead.” She waves a hand towards the Keep, “Jon could care less who sits on the throne now that the white walkers are gone. Sansa hates Cersei with all her being but she’d rather play at politics. The rest of the Northmen just want to go home and rest.”  
  
Daenerys sees no point to this conversation and prepares to say so. “All due respect, Lady Stark, I don’t see the point in stating the obvious.”  
  
Arya rolls her eyes and pushes away from the tree. “I remember when I didn’t have a lick of patience.”  
  
The Queen rears back, offended. “Have you any idea who you’re talking to?”  
  
The Northwoman shrugs, “I’ve yet to kneel to you, Dragon Queen.” She sees Daenerys open her mouth to refute that and continues. “No matter what my brother does or says. His actions reflect the North’s decisions, yes, but I’ve not been in Westeros for years. Thus, he doesn’t speak for me.”  
  
Daenerys narrows her eyes, filing that information for later, and raises her chin. “You have no allegiance then.”  
  
Arya stands at the spot where she won the Wight War. She stares at the footprints of the Night King, forever imprinted into the ground. Death ruling over life, as she sees that not a speck of snow has been able to survive on the now dead grass.  
  
She replays that moment over in her head, when she stabbed the Night King in the side with her dagger. It was in that moment when she realized she really had only ever been a tool, a servant to something greater than herself or Kings or Lords.  
  
She was born to defeat the Night King, and now what? She goes down to King’s Landing and finishes off her list, yes, that was always the plan. Revenge on Cersei is inevitable, she knows, but what about after? The Gods created her to rid the world of evil so, once that evil is defeated, is she going back to Winterfell? As nothing more than a tool, not an actual Stark? She was never meant to be a Lady but to not even be a person?  
  
The Gods really must spite her.  
  
Arya turns back towards the Queen, “I will help you defeat Cersei and place you on the throne. However, no harm is to come to Jon, or the North, for as long as you’re Queen.”  
  
Daenerys stares into determined gray eyes and nods. “Jon has sworn fealty to me. As long as this is so, neither he nor the North will be harmed by me.”  
  
Arya nods and turns to walk away then stops. She looks back at Daenerys and gestures towards the Keep again. “Don’t let the words of a few drunken men erase everything you’ve accomplished. You’re the Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains and soon-to-be Queen of Westeros. Your compassion is known throughout all the lands. Don’t lose sight of it now that you’re so close.”  
  
Daenerys stares after the Stark in confusion and something close to admiration. Here was a girl who had come to her with the very intention to threaten her, possibly even kill her, she can see that now, and instead leaves Daenerys feeling just slightly less overwhelmed than when she walked into this magical wood.  
  
Just before she can lose sigh of that dark brown hair, Daenerys speaks after her.  
  
“You forgot quite a few titles there, Hero of Winterfell.”  
  
The last thing the Queen sees before Arya is completely out of sight is the girl waving away her statement.


	2. Chapter II

**_Chapter II_**  
  
“Give them the opportunity, and they’ll cast Cersei aside.”  
  
“We’ll surround the city,” Jon continues after Tyrion, eyeing the map then turning towards the Queen. “If the Iron Fleet tries to ferry in more food, the dragons will destroy them. If the Lannisters and the Golden Company attack, we’ll defeat them in the field.”  
  
“Once the people see that Cersei is our only enemy, her reign is over.”  
  
Daenerys stares at Jon as Tyrion continues to talk. His eyes are sorrowful, practically begging her to not act in anger. She grinds her teeth and raises her chin. After a moment, he looks down, a sign of submission to her wishes.  
  
“Alright.” The Queen decides, and a collective sigh of relief is heard throughout the room. Daenerys frowns at this, meeting Varys’ eyes briefly before looking at the map.  
  
Sansa touches the wooden pieces on the board that indicate the Northern men. “The men we have left are exhausted,” she points out, waving her hand towards the Dothraki and Unsullied pieces. “Many of them are wounded. They’ll fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate.”  
  
Daenerys looks towards the Stark sisters, standing side by side. She tilts her head in acknowledgement, “How long do you suggest?”  
  
“Hard to say for certain,” Sansa answers, head bowing, “I’d have to talk to the officers.”  
  
Daenerys takes a deep breath and straightens. “I came North to fight alongside you. At great cost to my armies and myself.” Her eyes flash in anger, “And now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone.”  
  
Arya, who has been staring at the map for the duration of this meeting, lifts her eyes only to find violet focused solely on her, despite it being Sansa the one speaking.   
  
“It’s not only our people, it’s yours as well. They might even be worse off.” Sansa raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you really want to send them into a war they’re not ready to fight?”  
  
At the bait, Daenerys focuses on Sansa. “The longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they become.”  
  
Sansa scoffs silently while Daenerys continues to stare her down. Arya looks between the two, marveling at just how alike they are. Looks like Sansa has met her match in intellectual wit.   
  
While amusing, Arya knew that a stare down wasn’t going to get them anywhere, specially not with the way Jon bends to Daenerys’ will as he states that the North will follow whatever she dictates.   
  
“What you command, we will obey.” Jon tells the Queen, after giving Sansa a specific look.   
  
Sansa stares at Jon in what seems like betrayal and meets Arya’s eyes. Arya shrugs a shoulder in regard to Jon’s words but they’re both thinking the same thing. How easily Jon gives into the Queen rubs them both the wrong way. However, as the leader in the Northern forces, he’s the one with most power and, as such, makes the decisions for all of them.  
  
They both turn towards the table again as Tyrion breaks the tense silence. Daenerys sees the exchange but says nothing, letting her Hand speak.  
  
“So if all are in agreement,” he proceeds to move the pieces around the map. “Jon and Ser Davos will ride down the Kingsroad with the Northern forces along with the bulk of the remaining Dothraki and Unsullied. A smaller group of us will ride to White Harbor and sail to Dragonstone with the Queen and the dragons accompanying us from above in order to retrieve what’s left of our armies.”  
  
No one in the room speaks up to add anything to the plan. Daenerys nods, searching each face for any disagreements until she lands on the only grey eyes in the room. With their gazes locked, she remembers their conversation last night in the Godswoods.   
  
_“The rest of the Northmen just want to go home and rest.”  
  
_ Daenerys focuses on the large bruise spanning the right side of the younger Stark’s face, then takes stock of the many cuts and bruises the rest of the warriors have. Even Lady Sansa has a few cuts along her cheek and forehead while Daenerys herself is still favoring her right leg.  
  
The Queen acknowledges that, yes, her men will fight better if given the chance to rest. Their numbers might even increase slightly if those who aren’t too injured can recover. However, her burning need to have her birthright and stop Cersei from inflicting further damage on _her_ people prevents her from wanting to stay immobile any longer.  
  
She’s waited long enough for this war.  
  
As it stands, though, the North is still just as cold and unwelcoming towards her as ever. If giving them a chance to recover and strengthen their forces in order for her to gain their favor, she’ll reluctantly hold off from moving South.  
  
Just as everyone is moving to leave the room, Daenerys speaks up. “Lady Sansa,” the redhead turns to her, chin raised in slight defiance. Daenerys’ hackles rise but she stamps down the urge to put the girl in place. “You have a fortnight for the men to recover, then we’re moving South.”  
  
Sansa blinks in surprise then bows her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”   
  
Daenerys narrows her eyes and turns to leave the room, Varys and Tyrion following.   
  
Just as Jon is about to leave, Arya swiftly blocks his path and tilts her head in the direction of their siblings.  
  
“We need a word.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
“Forgive me for the imprudence, Your Grace,” Varys bows his head as he takes a seat across from Daenerys in front of a fireplace. The Queen sighs and waves her wine goblet in his direction to encourage him to continue.   
  
Varys nods once more. “I admit I’m a little confused as to why you agreed to give Lady Stark time for the men to recuperate when you had already denied it.”  
  
Daenerys raises her eyebrow, “Questioning my decisions, Lord Varys?”  
  
“If I wasn’t questioning your decisions, You Grace, I wouldn’t be part of your council.” Varys gives her a small wry smile.   
  
The Queen scoffs and drains the rest of her drink. “Fighting the white walkers was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.” She stands to get more wine. “My men will follow my orders to their deaths without complaint, but the North is still an unruly bunch.”   
  
Varys hums in understanding. “Then you really only agreed to Lady Sansa’s plea to gain the favor of the North.”  
  
“Despite having already sacrificed half of my men and one of my dragons for them.” Daenerys turns to walk back to her seat. “The North still does not trust me or my intentions. I mean to put an end to Cersei Lannister, the one who has terrorized every citizen on this continent, and I’ve yet to get an appreciative gesture.”  
  
“Well, Jon Snow has bent the knee and he speaks for the North.”  
  
Those words only make her think of Arya Stark stating that she does not follow Jon but is her own person. And if even his sister does not follow him, then is Jon really the true power in the North?  
  
The answer is quite simple, really.  
  
Daenerys crosses her legs and stares at the fire. “He may be called King in the North and the men may follow him into battle but we both know the Lady of Winterfell is the one with the actual power.” She takes a sip of her drink and continues. “We’ve seen it in every war meeting, how she cares for the people and leads them in everything else.”  
  
Varys mulls over his next words. He knows he needs to breach the subject somehow and this is a great opportunity to do so.   
  
“Yes, she seems to be a great example of a leader.”  
  
Daenerys’ suddenly sharp gaze turns to him and she slams her goblet on the table between them. Her lips turn up into a snarl as she barks her next words at him, “Don’t tire me with your riddles and speak your mind!”  
  
Varys bows his head in apology then stands. “My apologies, Your Grace. I have not been true to my promise of recognizing unfair treatment from you and would like to remedy that immediately.”   
  
The Queen stares him down as she also stands, raising her chin to show her dominance.  
  
“Well? What’s your advice, councilman?”  
  
The Master of Whispers flinches slightly at her icy tone of voice. “I recognize that the lack of action from your allies, regardless of their pledge to you, is driving you into a hard place where it seems you must sacrifice your own men in order to achieve a goal that will ultimately work in their favor as well.”  
  
Daenerys waves at him to continue, willing to hear the rest. With his heart in his throat, Varys does so, glad that she seems receptive to his advice.  
  
“Having to compromise is difficult when it doesn’t really benefit you, and all it does is give your allies more power over you.” Daenerys blinks at him having hit the nail on the head, so to speak, but he wasn’t done. “And after all the sacrifices you’ve made, including losing one of your children and Ser Jorah, all you’ve gotten is ignorance and unwillingness to act in your favor.”  
  
Daenerys turns away at the mention of the deceased knight, willing her sudden tears back. Her next words are weary as she fights down her emotions.  
  
“What do you suggest, then, Lord Varys?”  
  
Varys feels a little bad for using the knight’s name, but it’s a good way to urge her away from her anger. “We have to appease them, Your Grace. The fortnight of rest will help and making amends with Lady Sansa might be of prudence.”   
  
Daenerys takes a deep breath and nods slightly. “I will speak with Lady Stark,” Varys puts his hands together and bows his head. “I will also meet with the rest of the Northern Lords and we’ll go over future negotiations that will take place once I’m seated at the Iron Throne, as I’ve yet to choose a Warden of the North.”  
  
Varys gives her a small smile, “That’s a great idea, Your Grace.”  
  
The Queen nods and reaches over to down the rest of her wine. Once done, she tilts her goblet in his direction.  
  
“Thank you, Lord Varys, for keeping your promise.”  
  
“Anything for you, Your Grace.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Arya paces down the halls, only one place in mind as she bypasses several rooms in the Keep. She walks briskly and ignores everything else around her.   
  
Finally, she reaches the one door that matters to her. Unfortunately, it’s being guarded by two Unsullied. Arya huffs and steps up to go into the room, but she’s blocked by a pair of spears crossing in front of her.  
  
In rough common tongue, one of the Unsullied denies her entry. “I sorry. Queen sees no one.”  
  
Arya shrugs and attempts to move their spears. “I’m going in whether she likes it or not.”  
  
The Unsullied once again refuse to let her in. The Stark grins slightly at the challenge, hand inching towards the dagger at her hip. “I’m the one who defeated the Night King. Do you really wanna test my abilities right now? Because I’m going in there one way or another.”  
  
The Unsullied hesitate at her words, exchanging silent words between each other. They seem to come to a decision as they both point their spears at her. “Queen sees no one.”  
  
Arya grabs the handle of her dagger, ready to take it out and force her way into the Queen’s room when the door opens. Daenerys eyes her disapprovingly before turning to the guards. “Let her in.” She walks back into her room, leaving the door open.  
  
Arya waits for the guards to put down their spears then follows the Queen inside, sending them a smirk over her shoulder. Once inside with the door closed behind her, she turns to see the Queen standing by her fireplace, staring into the fire.  
  
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lady Stark?”  
  
Arya walks further into the room and crosses her arms. “He doesn’t want it,” Daenerys frowns in confusion. “Jon doesn’t want the throne. No matter what his true lineage is.”  
  
Daenerys turns to her then, anger burning in her eyes. “So, he’s told you the truth after I explicitly told him not to?” She stalks towards the younger girl. “You know, for someone who pledges fealty to me, Jon does tend to do the opposite of my will.”  
  
Arya watches as she steps towards her, now only inches separating them. Now eye to eye, the depth of the Queen’s fury and willingness to do anything to achieve her means is visible to her.  
  
It reminds the younger girl of back when she was first training at the House of Black and White. That anger and desperate need to have revenge on those who’d wronged her. She can see herself so clearly in the Dragon Queen, right now in this moment, that it renders her speechless.  
  
“What, then, will you do with this information, Lady Stark?” Daenerys continues, unaware of the Stark’s thoughts.  
  
At being called Lady Stark for the umpteenth time, Arya huffs and breaks eye contact. She walks to the fireplace and leans against the stone. “I’m no Lady Stark, that’s Sansa. And stop with the whole ‘Hero of Winterfell’ bull. I’m not wanting relations to titles.”  
  
Daenerys can’t believe her ears. Not only has this girl given no regard to her questions, for the second night in a row, but she also has the gall to tell her how to address her. Each day that passes, this particular Stark is getting higher on her list of people that need to put in their place.  
  
“I came here to tell you that Jon doesn’t want the throne. Do with that what you will, but if any harm comes to him, I’ll know who to take care of first.”  
  
“Is that a threat, _Lady Stark_?”  
  
Arya feels her left hand twitch so she crosses her arms to prevent herself from reacting. “No, it’s a vow. As such, for your sake, Jon must remain unharmed.”  
  
“As long as he’s alive, he has a better claim on the throne.” Daenerys points out, watching Arya glare at her, daring her to continue with the threat on Jon’s life. Fortunately for the Stark, Daenerys still doesn’t know how to feel about her nephew.  
  
A tense silence follows, Arya glaring at the Queen, whose raised eyebrow only further infuriates the Stark.  
  
“At least now I know why he follows you blindly like an attention-starved pup.”  
  
Daenerys rolls her eyes at the somewhat veiled insult. “In any case, for _Jon’s sake_ , this secret must stay between Houses Stark and Targaryen.”  
  
Arya scoffs in disbelief and waves her hand in the direction of the door. “Half a dozen people know. That’s not a secret anymore, that’s information for spies. And anyone with a loose tongue can hand out this information for the right amount of pay.”  
  
“Another threat? Are you always this comfortable handing those out?”  
  
Arya shrugs and moves towards the door. “That’s just a statement. I used to trade secrets for coin back in Braavos. And such a secret, it’s very valuable to those who wish to oppose you.”  
  
Daenerys frowns, decides to call Tyrion and Varys for a meeting later, and calls out to the Stark before she leaves. “Why are you so involved? Jon is loyal to only me, no harm comes to him while he remains so.”  
  
Arya stops at the door and turns. Her gray eyes pierce right through violet ones.  
  
“You remind me of my younger self a lot. All rage and no one to turn to.” Arya turns to leave again. “Made me do a lot of things I can barely live with nowadays.”  
  
Daenerys says nothing else, a pensive look crossing her features, so Arya takes her leave. Now out in the halls, Arya throws another smirk at the Unsullied guards and heads towards her room.   
  
Her thoughts go back to that conversation with the Queen. While Arya got a kick out of riling the Targaryen up, she really wanted to make sure the truth of Jon’s heritage wasn’t going to affect Daenerys’ intentions towards her brother.  
  
Because regardless of everything, that’s still who Jon is. Her brother.  
  
Speaking of brothers.   
  
Just as she rounds the corner to her living quarters, Arya almost runs into Bran.   
  
“Oh, hey, Bran. What’re you doing all the way up here?” Arya moves to grab the handlebars on the back of his weird-looking chair in order to push him towards her room.  
  
“Arya, I need to show you something.” He waits until they’re in her room before he motions for her to stand in front of him.   
  
“Everything okay?” She worries, knowing that whenever he speaks, she has to pay attention. Otherwise, he’ll refer to something important and she’ll miss it. The Night King is proof of that.  
  
Bran reaches for her hand, looks into her eyes and taps her palm with his finger.  
  
Arya gasps, a strange sensation running up her arm towards her head. The last thing she sees is Bran’s eyes rolling into the back of his head before everything goes dark.   
  
**_-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Arya wakes with a start and looks around. The ground is covered in snow and she’s leaning against a column. She immediately checks her hips, finds her weapons in their sheaths. She huffs as she looks around the column, which honestly looks like it’s seen better days.   
  
Her eyes land on the Unsullied and Dothraki forces gathered in a large courtyard. She looks around in confusion because last thing she remembers is being in her room at Winterfell with Bran.  
  
As she takes in the scene and walks towards what the soldiers are staring at, Arya starts to realize she’s not in Winterfell. She doesn’t know why but this place seems familiar.   
  
Something drops into her left eye, so she reaches up to find there’s blood running across her forehead. That’s when she notices the dull throbbing on the side of her head where there’s a bleeding gash along with dried blood across the lower half of her face.   
  
_‘What the bloody hell?’_  
  
Her thoughts are distracted by the snow falling onto her. When she reaches to her shoulder to brush it off, she realizes it’s not snow.  
  
It’s ash.  
  
All that what white stuff surrounding her is ash.  
  
Something clicks in her head just as cheers could be heard from the Dothraki riders and the Unsullied started stomping their spears on the ground.  
  
Arya turns to what she now recognizes as the Red Keep. It’s now little more than a pile of rubble and debris, columns and spires on the ground of what was once the biggest building on the capital. Her eyes zero in on a black banner being draped over the side of the building and she sucks in a surprised breath.  
  
A three-headed dragon.   
  
Just then, the cheers become louder, so she looks towards the top of the stairs that are still standing. The sight of Daenerys Targaryen standing tall at the top of those steps, Jon and Tyrion standing behind her shakes her to the core.   
  
As Daenerys starts addressing the crowd in a language she doesn’t understand, Arya takes a look around. She can see smoke coming from different directions, meaning the city was still burning. Sometimes she sees green flames reaching into the sky, remembers that wildfire was hidden under the city.   
  
The only way the barrels would’ve blown was if fire had touched them. And seeing who was standing as the victor, she can only guess what happened.  
  
The fact Jon was standing up there, in support of this, makes her sick. Or maybe it’s just that she’s lost blood and now feels like fainting.   
  
Her world goes black before she can hit the ground.  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_** _  
  
_Arya stumbles back, away from Bran, and knocks her small table to the ground. Her chest heaves with the sensation of being back in her body. She stares at Bran wide eyed, her hands shaking as she reaches up to check her face for blood and wounds.  
  
Bran’s eyes go back to normal while Arya takes stock of her surroundings. He reaches up to soothe the headache now building in his temple as he feels exhaustion setting in.  
  
That’s definitely the one and only time he’s doing that.  
  
Arya sits down on her bed and stares at Bran. “What was that, Brandon?”  
  
Bran looks back at her solemnly, “You know what you have to do now, don’t you, Arya?”  
  
Arya sighs heavily and drops her head into her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the tea. While I think Bran would make a good king, why the heck did he not say anything and let all those peeps in KL die?? So he's helping now. Also, I'm under the impression that Arya could be a lil shit at the worst of times so prepare for lots of back and forth between characters that interact with her.
> 
> I usually don't update this quick cause life but I'm really excited for this and I suddenly have free time, so updating might be unusual. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter III

**_Chapter III:_** _  
  
“You know what you have to do now, don’t you, Arya?”  
  
_ Arya thinks back to her conversation with Bran the previous day. She feels like her entire body has been tense ever since she saw the vision or whatever Bran did to her. Her shoulders feel a burden that hadn’t been there before, even when the Long Night had been approaching.   
  
Sansa paces back and forth in front of her. She’s been unable to stay still ever since Arya told her about the vision Bran showed her.   
  
“And you’re sure Jon can’t do anything about it?” Sansa asks, practically pleading with her.  
  
Arya lowers her gaze, “He was standing behind her, Sansa.”  
  
“Maybe it was against his will?”  
  
“The Northmen were gathered and cheering as well.”  
  
Sansa sits down and places her face in her hands. She has been planning on telling Tyrion about the truth but hadn’t come to the decision of whether she should. Now she’s even more uncertain as to what to do. She’s willing to do almost anything in order to expose the Targaryen but not at the cost of half a million lives.  
  
Arya sighs, “You know what I have to do, Sansa.”  
  
The older Stark shoots up in her seat, “Absolutely not!”  
  
“Sansa, it’s the only way to stop her.”  
  
Sansa shakes her head and stalks towards her sister. “No, Arya! You’ll be caught and beheaded for treason!”  
  
Arya frowns and looks away from the teary blue eyes. “Then so be it.” She reaches over and takes one of Sansa’s hands. Sansa places her other hand over Arya’s and grips them tightly.   
  
“But I have to do it. I have to kill the Queen.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Daenerys watches the emotions playing across the features of all three of her closest advisors. Varys seems stoic but he keeps fiddling with the hem of his sleeve nervously. Missandei, not quite sure of the politics on this side of the Narrow Sea, just looks concerned.   
  
Tyrion is another matter. He just downs his entire drink in a gulp and stands to get more, only to down two more cups before refilling another and sitting back down.  
  
“I take it you’re shocked, Lord Tyrion?” Daenerys breaks the silence.   
  
He chuckles humorlessly. “I just can’t believe so many people have had to pay the price for the consequences of this union.” The Queen only hums in response.  
  
“So Jon Snow is the rightful heir to the throne.” Varys states nonchalantly, earning a glare from the Targaryen. “Is there any chance the people might want him to rule instead?”  
  
“The North would be behind it in an instant.” Daenerys answers, “Not to mention the Vale and Riverlands as Sansa would back him.”  
  
Varys smiles wryly, “Any chance you’d marry him?”  
  
Daenerys frowns. Before all of this, before the Wight War and finding out about Jon, she probably would have said yes without a second thought. Now, knowing he’s her only family and that he’s the one thing standing between her and the throne, she’s not so sure.  
  
“He’s my nephew.”  
  
“Targaryen siblings have married before, you wouldn’t be the first-“  
  
“No, and I will not entertain the thought.” Daenerys states, looking Varys in the eye. He bows his head in accordance.   
  
“Still, this is dangerous information.” Tyrion points out, bringing the focus back to topic. “It could bring about more wars if it fell in the wrong hands.”  
  
Daenerys nods, “Which is why I’m entrusting you all with it. Lord Varys, make sure there aren’t any whispers of this outside of this room. Lord Tyrion, we’ll need to make the necessary arrangements to get rid of any evidence of Jon’s parentage.”  
  
Varys frowns, “Is that wise, your Grace?”  
  
“I will not be giving up the crown. And I’d like to keep peace when I take the throne.” The Queen stands to leave the room, Missandei stepping up beside her. “If the people of Westeros find out about this, it’ll be another war they’ll endure. A war I’d be ready to fight.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Arya watches from the side of the courtyard as Jon and Sansa check up on the progress of the soldiers and officers of the army. In the week since the Queen had given them time to recover, a lot of men who had been injured during the war had come forward and pledged themselves to fight Cersei as soon as their wounds healed.  
  
Word has finally spread through the troops that the army Cersei had promised in the Summit was never going to help, and so they all believe their numbers were diminished thanks to her not aiding them. Many of the Northern houses want Cersei off the throne.   
  
But did that mean they want Daenerys on it?  
  
Arya looks up across to the second floor of the courtyard and sees the Queen along with Missandei. She believes the former slave is the closet person to the Queen and she plans to use that to her advantage.   
  
She pushes off the wall and starts heading towards the Targaryen. She catches Sansa’s eye, who nods, makes some kind of excuse to Jon and heads back inside. The younger Stark climbs the stairs to the second floor and walks over to the Queen.  
  
Arya sees that one of the guards standing behind the pair is one of the guards that had been guarding Daenerys’ room a few days back. She grins and steps up to the guard, catching the attention of the Queen and her handmaiden.   
  
She taps his armor right above his heart and winks. “I remember you. I’d like to spar with you sometime. No one raises a weapon against me and gets away with it.”  
  
Daenerys cannot believe her ears. How many threats is this young woman going to make?  
  
“First you threaten me, twice over, and now you threaten my guards. Are you going for some kind of record, Lady Stark?”  
  
Arya stares into the Unsullied’s eyes a moment longer. She shrugs when there’s no reaction from him and turns towards the Targaryen. “I’ve been trying to get a rise out of your soldiers. The Unsullied are like solid stone but the Dothraki are easy to provoke. One wrong gesture and suddenly they want my blood,” she pauses and frowns. “And hair. They’re very adamant about my hair.”  
  
“They treasure their hair. Once they win a battle, they cut their opponent’s hair to show dominance. They add bells to their braids for every won battle.” Daenerys explains.   
  
Arya nods in understanding. It makes sense now as to why most of the Dothraki men have longer hair.   
  
The Queen continues with an eyebrow raise. “And you should really stop provoking the Dothraki. They fight to the death, whether that’s yours or theirs.”  
  
The Stark smirks, “Oh, I know. I had to stop Arrokko from impaling himself on his weapon when I defeated him yesterday and refused to kill him.”  
  
Daenerys sighs in exasperation at her words. Missandei just barely stops herself from smiling at the Dothraki’s antics.   
  
Arya walks closer to them and leans against the railing. “Actually, they’re one of the reasons I came to talk to you.” She gestures towards Missandei. “It’s my understanding that you speak many languages.” Missandei nods, prompting the Northern girl to smile. “Any of them happen to be High Valyrian, bastard Valyrian or Dothraki?”  
  
Missandei and Daenerys exchange a look. The handmaiden nods again while the Queen just looks at the younger girl questioningly. “Why would you want anything to do with High Valyrian?”  
  
Arya turns to look past Winterfell’s open gates, her gaze becoming unfocused. She’s always found some kind of fascination with the language, even when she was small. She remembers the nights spent with Maester Luwin learning how to pronounce and string together the words.   
  
Words that later came in handy when she was training with the Faceless Men. But ever since coming back to Westeros, she’s had no real use of the language and she can feel herself getting rusty.  
  
“As I’ve mentioned, Dragon Queen, I was in Braavos for a period of my life. My…mentor at the time had insisted I learn and practice both forms of Valyrian. I’m afraid that now that I’m back in Westeros, I’ll forget the languages.” Arya smiles at Missandei. “I was hoping you’d help me remedy that. And teach me Dothraki.”  
  
Daenerys raises a brow, “So you want my personal advisor to become your language teacher?”  
  
“More or less.”  
  
Two pairs of eyes turn towards Missandei. She smiles at the Queen. “I don’t mind helping her with Valyrian and Dothraki.” Arya smiles again.  
  
Daenerys hums and turns to the Stark. “As long as you don’t use the Dothraki language to rile up my Bloodriders.”   
  
Arya shrugs. “No promises.”  
  
Daenerys just narrows her eyes in confusion. Some days ago, this girl was threatening her with killing her if she so much as looked at Jon the wrong way. Now she’s teasing and smiling at them as if they’ve been the best of friends for years.   
  
Starks sure are an enigma.  
  
Arya nods at Missandei. “How does tomorrow morning after the war meeting sound?”  
  
“That should be good, yes.”  
  
Arya nods again and turns to leave. Daenerys speaks up before she could. “What use is Valyrian or Dothraki in the North?”   
  
The Stark smirks at them. “Who said I was staying in the North?”  
  
“Are you joining us on our journey to King’s Landing then, Lady Stark?”  
  
“It’s where all the action will be. I’ve no interest in politics or ruling, so I’m of no use to Sansa here.”  
  
“You could protect her, maybe.”  
  
Arya points down to the courtyard, where Brienne and Podrick are checking in with some of the blacksmiths. “My sister has Brienne and Podrick to protect her.”  
  
“And Ser Jaime, now that he’s planning on staying.”  
  
“Hmm, sure.”  
  
The younger wolf’s sarcasm and disregard for royalty or titles may get under her skin at times but Daenerys is glad she’s not the only one who does not trust Jaime Lannister. And as far as she’s seen, Arya might be the most honest and best judge of character out of the Starks, with no care to play games with anyone. Whatever the girl thinks, she’ll speak it freely, damn the consequences.  
  
Hence all the threats between them.  
  
She’s also probably the perfect person to ask for an opinion, given the fact she’s so brutally honest.   
  
“Lady Stark,” Daenerys ignores the eye roll from her at the title and continues. “What would you do if there was someone standing in the way of the one thing you’ve fought for your entire life?” The Queen locks eyes with Arya, and that’s when the younger girl knows she’s actually listening to her response.  
  
Arya’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. She doesn’t know whether the Queen is talking about Jon or Cersei. She also doesn’t know why she wants to hear what Arya thinks she should do. Is she trying to get others’ opinion on the situation? Does the fact that Daenerys is asking her what she’d do mean that she’s second guessing bringing war to King’s Landing? Could this be the one thing that tips the scale into King’s Landing not being burnt to a crisp?  
  
On one hand, Arya has always been straightforward with the Targaryen. With everyone, really. When she left the House of Black and White, she’d made a vow to herself that she was gonna live truthfully. After almost half her life spent lying and pretending to be someone else, she was ready to be just Arya. The only times she’d take on a different face or lie would be to enact her revenge or protect her family.   
  
Which meant being honest with the Queen now.  
  
However, now that Bran’s showed her the future, she’s gonna try her best to prevent that from happening. She’s not so sure honesty would be the best bet here. She also doesn’t want to tell the truth and have it backfire like it did for Jon at the Summit. It definitely doesn’t help that most of her family died while trying to be honorable. She honestly didn’t know what to do.  
  
But just looking into those searching violet eyes has her speaking.  
  
Sansa is going to hate her.  
  
“I’d like to lie to you,” Arya starts and prays to all the Gods out there that this doesn’t come back to bite her in the ass later. “By telling you that I would take the honorable way and fight for it fairly. However, I know myself well enough that, in order to achieve my goals, I would do _anything_ , even if it meant killing hundreds and playing dirty.”  
  
Daenerys swallows harshly at the words and looks away from the intense gray gaze. She’s not sure if those are the words she wants to hear because it sounds like it justifies if she were to sacrifice innocent lives in order to get the Iron Throne.   
  
As if it’d justify descending into rage in order to get what’s hers.  
  
With fire and blood.  
  
Arya watches the emotions play across the Queen’s face. Sees the indecision in her eyes, the conflict between doing what’s right or screwing the consequences and taking what’s hers.  
  
“This doesn’t mean I wouldn’t think about it.” The young Stark says, bending her head in order to catch Daenerys’ eyes. “The safest and most honorable route should be taken first, of course. Killing is only a last resort. But if there was any way that everyone would come out safe and unscathed, I’d follow that path in a heartbeat.”  
  
Daenerys shutters out a breath and straightens up. “Thank you, Lady Stark, you’ve given me much to think about.”  
  
Arya nods her head and gives her a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I do think you’d be able to do it. Take King’s Landing without any innocents dying. Cersei would sacrifice her people without a second thought. But you…you came North to fight a battle that had nothing to do with you because you were worried about your people.”  
  
Daenerys stares at the Stark in surprise at the sudden pep talk. She hesitantly returns the smile. “So, you can be nice when you want to.”  
  
Arya chuckles slightly. “When it benefits me.” She waves towards the Queen. “In all seriousness, if there’s anyone who could lead Westeros into a new era of peace, it’s you.”  
  
Missandei smiles gently from behind Daenerys, watching as this Northern girl starts chipping at the walls her Queen has built up since they landed in Westeros. Daenerys has been on edge since coming back from Vaes Dothrak, but it seems as if the world’s problems was on the Targaryen’s shoulders the longer they go without claiming this throne made of iron.   
  
Missandei has been worried about Daenerys but if she were to have just one friend in Westeros, maybe she’ll be alright.   
  
Arya then rolls her eyes. “One more thing, you really have to stop calling me Lady Stark. Just Arya is fine.”  
  
Daenerys smirks. “Only when you call me Your Grace.”  
  
Arya, sensing it was time to go now that their more serious conversation ended, starts walking backwards towards the stairs. “That’ll happen when I kneel before you, Dragon Queen.”  
  
“Which will be when, Lady Stark?”  
  
Arya smiles at them once more time before turning on her heel and going downstairs.  
  
Daenerys and Missandei watch her go until she’s no longer visible. Missandei steps closer to the Queen and smiles. “I like her, Your Grace.”  
  
The Targaryen chuckles a bit. “Of course you do. I’d probably find her charming if she wasn’t so infuriating and constantly making threats at everything that breathes.”  
  
Missandei shakes her head. “It’s because she’s made you smile for the first times in weeks, You Grace.”  
  
Daenerys scrunches up her nose, ignores the thoughts that statement enlightens, then turns to go downstairs. “Let’s go check on Arrokko.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Arya sighs deeply as she stares out into the field in front of her. Some days, people in Winterfell are good at leaving her alone. Other days, like today, all they want to do is talk to the _Hero of Winterfell_. As someone who never liked titles and trained every day for the past five years to live in shadows, Arya could not handle it.  
  
So she often snuck out of Winterfell to avoid all the praises and gratitude. And to sometimes escape Sansa’s overall moodiness when it came to having Southerners inside their walls.  
  
She loves her sister dearly, but she could not stand her when she gets in one of her moods.  
  
Which brings her to think about the many confrontations she’s had with the Dragon Queen, more specifically their most recent one.   
  
Arya still isn’t quite sure why she decided to tell the truth when the Queen asked her opinion on what she should do. She still doesn’t know if she was referring to Cersei or Jon. She really hopes it was about Cersei because if Daenerys does something to Jon and it was her fault, she’d never forgive herself.  
  
Hopefully, all the threats work. She’d hate to kill someone who liberated Slaver’s Bay and fought so bravely against the white walkers.  
  
The thing is that Arya could clearly see Daenerys was warring with herself on what she should do. She could see the want to do what’s best for her people. But she also saw the resignation when Arya mentioned she’d willingly kill.   
  
She could see that, beneath all of that burning rage and need to control everything, there was a fiery love and passion for her people.   
  
It was that same passion that helped Arya survive all those years after her father’s death. It was that passion that filled her when she was defending Winterfell. It was that same passion that allowed her to continue forward in order to kill the Night King. It was this fierce need to protect those dear to her that has pushed her to do things that would have otherwise been impossible.  
  
It’s because Arya can see herself so clearly in Daenerys that she’s putting her reservations aside and encouraging the more calm, caring side of the Queen. Something happened to the Targaryen that made her into the ball of rage she is today.  
  
Arya is going to find the person buried deep inside that woman, the one who freed slaves and helped her people In Essos, and she’s gonna feed that person’s ambitions.  
  
The crunching of snow behind her alerts her to another presence. Arya whirls around, ready to fight, only to come face to face with a wolf almost as tall as her.  
  
Arya would know those eyes anywhere. Would know the reason for the pull deep in her gut. After all, there were many nights where she inhabited this body in order to feel free.   
  
With a trembling hand, she reaches out to the direwolf.   
  
“Nymeria...”  
  
The direwolf huffs and presses her snout into her gloved hand. Arya laughs breathily, throat suddenly closing up with emotions within her. Her eyes well up with tears as her direwolf leans further into her.  
  
Arya throws herself at Nymeria, wrapping her arms around her neck. “I never thought I’d see you again, Nym.” Nymeria whines slightly and nuzzles into the Stark’s hair, receiving another laugh. Arya leans back to look into amber eyes questioningly. “But wait, I thought you had your pack. You’d found your home.”  
  
Nymeria growls softly and thumps her snout into the girl’s chest. Arya rubs the direwolf’s neck once she understood. “You had to take care of them then, but that wasn’t your home. I’m your home.” Nymeria barks at that and moves to lay her head on Arya’s shoulder.   
  
Arya grabs onto her neck again, eyes straying towards Winterfell in the distance. She makes a silent vow to herself then.  
  
She’s gonna make sure Daenerys is a fair and just Queen when she ascends into the throne. Even if it means giving up on avenging her family.   
  
Arya Stark will not be adding another name to her list.  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Sansa makes some excuse to Jon about one thing or the other and heads inside after sharing a glance with Arya. She heads towards the guest chambers where the Southern royals are staying. She stops at a door and knocks.  
  
She hears some incoherent babble from inside and waits. After a moment, the door opens and Tyrion stares up at her, surprise written all over his face.  
  
“Lady Sansa, what can I help you with?”  
  
“We need to talk.”  
  
Tyrion must see something one her face because he immediately opens the door to his chambers further and lets her in. Once inside, he goes to his table and pours wine into two glasses.   
  
“If you’re here to talk about our marriage, I can assure you it was annulled the moment I shot an arrow at my father.” Tyrion jokes as he offers her the second glass.  
  
Sansa grabs the glass from him, takes a sip then places it back on the table. “While I’m glad to hear this, our failed marriage is not what I’ve come to discuss with you.”  
  
“You wound me, Lady Sansa.”  
  
Sansa holds in the urge to rolls her eyes and sits. “Lord Tyrion, I’ve come to you with some information regarding your Queen.”  
  
Tyrion cocks his head to the side curiously. “Oh? Then as her Hand, I suppose I should be privy to any and all information _regarding our Queen_.”  
  
Sansa ignores the emphasis on the words and continues as if he never spoke. “I’ve been informed about a secret document in the Citadel about Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark’s involvement. They married in secret and shortly after had a son.”  
  
Tyrion sucks in a deep breath and stares at the oldest Stark. While he’s already privy to this information, as Daenerys had told him a few days ago, he doesn’t know what Sansa expects him to do about it.   
  
He decides to act dumb and see how it goes.  
  
“If that were true, my Lady, then Daenerys isn’t the heir to the throne. This son is. If so, where is this son?”  
  
Sansa raises her chin, “He’s been paraded about as a bastard his whole life to protect this secret. His name is Jon Snow.”  
  
Tyrion waits a moment then downs his cup in one go. He tries to think of what to say next as he goes to refill his cup. “If this is true, then Westeros has been at war for little over two decades because two people were too scared to face consequences of their love.”  
  
Sansa frowns, “War was bound to happen, what with the Mad King killing anyone who breathed wrong.”  
  
Tyrion waves that away and focuses on the matter at hand. “Never mind that. If what you say is true, then Jon is the heir to the throne.”  
  
“Yes,” Sansa nods and narrows her eyes. “Someone who is willing to put the needs of his people before their own. A selfless leader. Imagine someone like Jon sitting on the Iron Throne.”  
  
Tyrion shakes his head, “What if he doesn’t want it? He’s said so himself, the people named him King in the North. He didn’t want that. What makes you think he’d want the Iron Throne?”  
  
Sansa stands and paces about the room. “Unfortunately, it’s not about what Jon wants. It’s about what’s right for the people.” She stops to stare at him. “Your Queen is going mad. You can’t deny it, you see it, as well.”  
  
Tyrion frowns and shakes his head again. Doesn’t comment on the accusation. “You’re talking about treason here, Sansa.”  
  
“I’m talking about the safety of the people of Westeros.”  
  
The Hand sighs in exasperation and throws his hands up in the air. “You haven’t even given the Queen a chance. She liberated the people of Essos! She made slavery illegal! That was all her! She gained nothing from doing any of that. She did what was right for her people.”  
  
Sansa glares at him, “She’s got Jon wrapped around her finger because of this secret. She’s got you in her corner, defending any and all actions she makes, whether they’re for the greater good or not. She burned the Tarlys and part of the Lannister army alive. Soon enough, that’ll be King’s Landing and anyone who stands in her way.”  
  
Tyrion can’t believe he’s about to say this, but he channels his inner Daenerys and breathes out, “It’s war. People die in war.” He feels sick in his stomach. This entire conversation is making him sick.  
  
“But they don’t have to. Not the way they did.” Sansa points out and turns to leave. “Just think about it. Think about Jon on the throne and what it could do for the people of Westeros.”  
  
His door closes and alone again, Tyrion rubs a hand down his face and reaches over to dump Sansa’s drink into his glass.  
  
“The Starks are gonna make me gray faster than serving as Hand ever could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I dislike writing Varys. He never moves! I try to pick apart character movements and traits so it's not just all dialogue but this mf just bows his head all the freakin time. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the kudos and comments. This thing is getting bigger and bigger every day. It's not just the six chapters I had during the outline, yikes.


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Trigger Warning for torture and interrogation. It's brief and if you only read the dialogue of the scene, it'll still make sense. Either way, it also gets explained in the scene after.

**_Chapter IV:_**  
  
“How’d it go with Tyrion?”  
  
Sansa looks at Arya and shakes her head. “He defended the Queen to his last breath.”  
  
Arya nods and looks towards Bran. “How exactly does the Queen go mad, Bran? Did she just decide she was gonna burn King’s Landing or was there something that caused it?”  
  
Bran looks up from the fireplace and tilts his head. “There’s no definitive thing that leads people to make the decisions they make.”  
  
Sansa sighs, “So you don’t know?”  
  
“There are many factors that contribute to people’s decision-making. The future is always changing, Sansa, so I can’t really decipher the small details that lead to a bigger event. The vision I showed Arya was because no matter how many paths I followed towards the future, the burning of King’s Landing at Daenerys’ hand was always the end. My hope is for Arya to stop her before that happens.”  
  
Bran locks eyes with Arya, who sighs and walks closer to the fireplace. “What if I don’t kill her? What happens then?”  
  
Sansa frowns, “What do you mean? I’ve already planted the seed of doubt in Tyrion. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”  
  
Arya whirls around to glare at her. “I’m not getting cold feet. I’m still going with the plan and heading to King’s Landing with Jon. I’ll keep a close eye on the Queen.” She takes a deep breath, “But what if I don’t have to kill her? What if she can be swayed from madness?”  
  
Bran narrows his eyes at her. “You saw something. In the Queen.”   
  
Sansa stares at them in confusion.  
  
Arya crosses her arms defensively. “I saw something, some kind of – I don’t know, hesitation? It seemed like she was warring with herself, doubting herself, when it came to attacking King’s Landing. I didn’t see a madwoman; I saw someone who was lost.”  
  
Sansa scoffs and leans back in her seat, arms crossing. “Arya–“  
  
“No, Sansa, listen to me. If I can persuade her to be a fair Queen, I don’t have to kill her. When I was in Braavos, she could’ve easily sailed for Westeros after she had Meereen’s fleet. But she didn’t, and she stayed in Slaver’s Bay to abolish slavery and make sure it was never allowed again.”  
  
Arya turns to Bran then, eyes pleading. “If I can show her that she can lead Westeros just as well as Essos, without violence, there’d be no need to kill her.”  
  
Bran stares at her for a moment longer before he nods. “Just don’t forget that half a million people’s lives depend on your judge of character.”  
  
Arya gives him a small grin, “No pressure.”  
  
Sansa scoffs in disbelief and stands to walk closer to her siblings. She grabs her sister’s hand. “While I’m glad this way would prevent your beheading for treason, are you absolutely sure? Are you certain being a – a _friend_ to the Queen will be the thing to stop her madness?”  
  
Arya squeezes her hand and nods, her grin growing. “A friend was all it took for me to remember what’s important when I came back to Westeros.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Daenerys watches from atop her horse as the last of the troops from Winterfell finish saying their goodbyes. It was time to move out and start marching South. All of her Dothraki and Unsullied were waiting in formation outside the gates, ready to go at a moment’s notice.  
  
Missandei mounts her own horse beside her and waits with her. They both watch as the Starks share their last moments together. Jon and Sansa are hugging tightly while Arya is kneeling by Bran’s chair, whispering with him.   
  
From the looks of it, they seem to be having a very serious conversation, judging by the locked eyes and furrowed brows. Sansa is tearily smiling at Jon as he cradles her head gently. They turn to their younger siblings still engaged in their conversation.   
  
Sansa reaches out to pull Arya to her feet then crushing her in a hug. Jon places his hands on Bran’s shoulders as they speak. The oldest Stark lets go of her sister only to pull all four into a family hug.  
  
At this point, Daenerys looks away from the siblings. Her heart constricts at the thought that she’s never gonna have a family like theirs. A family where they’d do anything and everything to protect and care for each other.   
  
She locks eyes with Missandei, who only smiles at her sadly, as if she could read her mind and know what she’s thinking.  
  
Daenerys notices Grey Worm on his own horse making his way to her. He stops just beside her and greets her. “The men are ready, Your Grace.” He says in his improving common tongue.   
  
The Queen nods and turns towards the Starks as they were the last ones left. Jon makes eye contact with her and separates from his siblings. He smiles at Bran and Sansa as he says his last goodbye. He turns to get on his horse.   
  
Arya shares a last glance with Sansa before turning to her horse, whistling to get Nymeria’s attention. She mounts her horse and waits for Nymeria to join her then turns her horse to trot out of Winterfell’s gates. Grey Worm follows her out.   
  
Jon stops besides the Queen, “Your Grace, it’ll be a four-day ride to White Harbor. We’ll accompany you there halfway then we’ll continue down the Kingsroad while you and the Unsullied part ways with us.”  
  
Daenerys nods and pulls on the reigns, turning to walk out of Winterfell. Missandei and Jon follow while the last of the Starks watch them go.  
  
Sansa frowns, “I hope they know what they’re doing.”  
  
Bran only hums in agreement.  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
They’ve been on the road for two days now. At the moment, the troops are starting to make camp for the night now that the sun is slowly setting.   
  
Daenerys is still atop her horse, splitting her attention between her soldiers preparing camp and Missandei trotting in front of her with Arya. They seem very invested in their lesson, Arya’s eyes moving between Missandei’s eyes and her lips as the Naathi sounds out the words in Dothraki.  
  
Nymeria, whom she was very surprised to see trotting about in the courtyard one morning along with a grinning Stark family and Ghost, matches pace besides her horse. As if keeping guardianship over her.   
  
The gray and white direwolf Is almost as big and wide as her horse, just slightly smaller in height, so her protection is actually quite welcome. Her presence is also calming, sometimes playful, and Daenerys enjoys having her around.  
  
Up ahead, the Queen catches sight of Jon and Tyrion discussing something. She frowns in frustration when she realizes they’re waiting for her. What they could possibly want her for, she has no idea. All routes have been discussed; the forces that are being split tomorrow have been assigned to their posts.  
  
For once, she just wants to be left alone.  
  
Daenerys pulls on the reigns of her horse in order to stop its trot. Arya and Missandei seem to notice and stop theirs as well. Nymeria also stops and sits, tongue lolling out. Her three Bloodriders stop behind her and she turns to address them in their tongue.  
  
“ _Jaerlo, please go make sure the rest of the Dothraki have settled. Lavakho, tell the council I will join them in a few moments as I have something to take care of._ ” The two Bloodriders nod and trot ahead. Daenerys turns to Kovarro and signals him to follow her.   
  
Missandei exchanges a look with Arya and goes to follow the Queen. Arya frowns as she watches them step out of the formation of the troops, heading towards a clearing. The Stark sees the Targaryen has no intention to take another guard with her and nudges her horse into a canter to catch up with the three, whistling at Nymeria to follow her.  
  
Once she catches up to the Queen, Arya trots beside her. “Any reason you’re out here with only one guard, Dragon Queen?”  
  
Daenerys glances at her briefly before focusing straight ahead. “You’re not the only one who needs to escape the throng of people sometimes, Lady Stark.” When she notices Arya’s raised eyebrow, she continues. “You’re not as sneaky as you’d like to think. I see you sneaking out all the time.”  
  
“Maybe so, but I’m not the one half of the continent is going to war with.”  
  
The Queen tilts her head curiously at the younger girl. “Are you worried for me, Lady Stark?”  
  
Arya rolls her eyes and scoffs. “All I’m saying is that if you intend to separate from your army, the least you can do is take more than a single Dothraki.”  
  
As if understanding the conversation and agreeing with her human, Nymeria barks at Daenerys.   
  
Missandei smiles as she listens to the easy banter the two women have developed over the last week. Arya is a quick learner, and their language lessons have been going great. Sometimes, the Queen will be around the two as they practice, and she’ll throw in a quip into the lesson. Arya’s witty and dry comments never fail to either amuse or rile up the Mother of Dragons.  
  
It’s gotten even more amusing now that they were traveling. Arya is constantly following Jon, who is always around Daenerys, who is forever in the company of Tyrion. The varying types of humor and wit the four of them display in the less formal meetings is a sight to see.  
  
“Why, I’m in the presence of the Hero of Winterfell. I couldn’t be in better hands.” Daenerys smirks at the Stark and gestures at her.  
  
Arya glares at her for the nickname but Daenerys pays her no mind, continuing with her train of thought.  
  
“Besides, Kovarro has been with me since the beginning of my time with the Dothraki many years ago. I trust him with my life.” At the mention of his name, the Dothraki grins at the Queen and nods to agree with her.  
  
“Qoy qoyi, Khaleesi.”   
  
Arya narrows her eyes at his words, replaying them in her head slowly then turns to Missandei. “That’s blood of the blood?”  
  
Missandei nods her head, “That’s the literal translation, yes. In the context he’s used, he means the Khaleesi is blood of his blood.”  
  
The Stark turns questioning eyes towards Daenerys, who smiles over at Kovarro. “He’s not my actual blood. It’s a phrase Bloodriders use to address a Khal they’re pledged to.”  
  
Arya hums in understanding. “I’ve always been told Dothraki were savages but they’re not too bad.”  
  
“Their way of life may be a bit…intense but they are the most passionate warriors I’ve ever encountered.”  
  
Arya had seen the way they fought against the Night Army at Winterfell and she had no doubt the woman’s words were true.   
  
In all honesty, Arya was so interested in how such different groups of people all came to serve the Targaryen. Sure, she heard stories of all the conquests the Queen made while she was in Braavos but seeing it all with her own eyes was something else. The way these people fought so religiously for their Queen astounded the younger girl.  
  
Arya just hopes that their judgment of Daenerys was trustworthy.  
  
The group has travelled a bit further from camp in silence when something out of the corner of her eye catches Arya’s attention.   
  
With no chance to act accordingly, Arya pushes out of her saddle and tackles Daenerys out of hers. She lets out a grunt when the tip of an arrow makes contact with her right shoulder blade. She ignores the pain and twists her body just before they land on the grass, her left shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the fall while she cradles the Queen in her arms.  
  
Immediately haunching over the curled-up Targaryen, Arya sweeps her eyes over to their companions. She sees Kovarro let an arrow lose towards the spot the initial arrow came from before he pulls Missandei off her horse and hides behind a rock.   
  
Nymeria is nowhere to be found.  
  
Arya looks towards the trees where the assault came from. Seeing no other arrows forthcoming, she gathers Daenerys into her arms and quickly deposits her by Kovarro. She turns to Missandei, whom she knows will not question her actions at the moment.  
  
“Tell Kovarro to stay hidden here with the two of you. I’m gonna go figure this out.”  
  
“Your shoulder – ”  
  
“Oh, this?” Arya reaches over and breaks the arrow in half, the tip still lodged in her shoulder blade. “It’s nothing. Stay hidden.”   
  
When she sees the Naathi nod, she peeks over the boulder. Nothing seems out of place, so she ducks out from behind the boulder and jumps onto her horse, nudging him to a full gallop towards the trees. Arya grabs the bow and quiver full of arrows she keeps in her bag and nocks an arrow onto her bow, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she does.  
  
Her gray eyes search the trees once she’s inside the forest. With the reign wrapped around her fingers, she slows the horse down to a slow canter while still holding the bow at attention.   
  
Arya keeps searching the trees as she brings her horse to a stop. She frowns, eyes moving about as she tries to clear her thoughts.   
  
Who in their right mind tries to attack the Queen while her army is only meters away? That arrow had been aimed at Daenerys’ neck. There’s no way this is an attack on someone else in their party.   
  
A low growl caught her attention. Arya pulls on the reigns to turn her horse towards the sound.   
  
At the base of a trunk up ahead, a man is laying on the ground. He’s pinned to the ground by Nymeria’s paw on his chest. An arrow, probably the one Kovarro shot, is plunged deep into his abdomen.  
  
Arya dismounts her horse and nocks her arrow once more, aiming at the man’s head. Her eyes search for any visible weapons before they land on a sigil over her chest. The sigil is three white mountain tips with a four-pointed star over the middle one.   
  
_House Whitehill._  
  
The Stark gets closer, arrow still nocked, and stands by Nymeria. “Good job, girl. Go scout the perimeter, see if there are any other fools around.” The direwolf barks and speeds off.  
  
Arya glares down at the injured man. “Why does Whitehill want the Queen dead?”  
  
The man glares right back, not uttering a word. The Stark frowns then draws her arrow back and shoots it at the man’s right shoulder.   
  
He lets out a grunt of pain but otherwise says nothing. Arya nocks another arrow, “I asked a question and you better answer it, otherwise I’ll fill you with arrows.”  
  
The Northman says nothing, focusing on trying to sit up against the tree. The young woman isn’t about to let that happen, so she shoots another arrow, this time at his left knee. A yell leaves his lips as he reaches down to cradle his knee.  
  
Arya crouches down and pulls out her Valyrian dagger. “House Whitehill was the bannerman of House Bolton when they were in power in the North. Your men barely reached a hundred after the Boltons were defeated.”  
  
She reaches down and twists the Dothraki arrow in his abdomen, his screams echoing in the woods.  
  
“Why did you try to kill the Queen? I’m not gonna ask again.”  
  
The man pants up at her, “Ain’t no Northman kneeling for a foreign bitch.”  
  
Arya narrows her eyes, “Who sent you?”  
  
“Fuck you!”  
  
The Stark rolls her eyes and draws her dagger closer to his body. She places the tip of it in the hole one of the arrows created and pulls, ripping his tunic apart. She presses the edge of her dagger along his chest and traces the outline of his ribs.  
  
“Do you remember what the sigil for House Bolton was?” Suddenly nervous blue eyes look up to lock with her gray ones. “A flayed man. I bet you have never seen a man being flayed before, have you? I can show you how it’s done right now.”   
  
Arya presses the tip of her dagger into his skin, drawing blood. He whimpers in pain, eyes watching as she follows the contours of his heaving chest.  
  
“It was the Queen! Queen Cersei sent me!”  
  
Arya stops, eyes hardening at the name. She reaches up and pulls on his hair, exposing his neck and pressing the dagger against it. “Cersei sent you? Just you?”   
  
“Like you said, Whitehill don’t have no men.”  
  
“But there are others?”  
  
“Not from Whitehill.”  
  
Arya inhales sharply, pressing the knife down hard enough to draw blood. “Are. There. More?” With every word she utters, she pulls on his hair more. This strains his neck against the blade, more skin being split apart.  
  
“Y – Yes!”  
  
Arya stares down at him for another moment before abruptly letting him go and standing. She walks a few paces away from him, sheathing her dagger and picking up her bow.   
  
“You’re g – gonna let me go, right?” The man voices out as he attempts to sit up.   
  
Arya turns to him, mutters a quiet, “No,” and shoots at arrow at his head.  
  
The Stark mounts her horse and starts a gallop back towards the clearing, her thoughts racing.  
  
Cersei has people behind her in the North. That means anyone can hurt Daenerys. The Dragon Queen isn’t safe with anyone other than her own soldiers right now. What’s worse is that Whitehill is a Northern House. A House that is sworn to her brother.  
  
Daenerys is gonna have Jon’s head.  
  
 _Sansa_ is gonna have Jon’s head.   
  
Because this isn’t just a plot against the Dragon Queen. It’s also a plot to divide the North again now that their common undead enemy is destroyed.  
  
Arya arrives at the clearing just as a small group of soldiers approach, Jon among them. She sees that two of the men are Northmen among half a dozen Unsullied and nudges her horse to run faster in order to intercept them.   
  
She blocks the party of men by stopping her horse in front of Jon, two pairs of gray eyes locking. Jon looks at her in confusion then looks past her to the women.  
  
Arya turns to look as well, noticing that everyone was back on their horses now that they saw the Stark was back. The younger Stark turns to Jon with a glare. “We need to talk.”  
  
Jon only frowns in confusion, waiting for her to explain but Arya only nudges her horse towards the Queen.  
  
“Are you three alright?” Arya questions as she stops besides the Queen.   
  
Daenerys nods, eyes falling to the girl’s shoulder and blood-stained clothes. “We’re well. Did you find the culprit?”  
  
Arya hesitates before nodding. “I did. There’s an issue, however. You need to call on your council and we need to talk.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Nymeria trotting back to them. She’s able to relax a bit then, relief flooding her system when she realizes there’s no one else in the woods.   
  
Jon approaches them and inspects Arya with wide eyes. “Arya, what happened?”  
  
She waves away his concern and Daenerys straightens up. “I’ll gather the council while you go see a healer.”   
  
Arya shakes her head, “There’s no time for that. We need to meet now.” She eyes the Northman discreetly.   
  
Jon frowns at her words and tries to change her mind. “Arya, you have an arrow stuck in your shoulder.”  
  
The younger girl rolls her eyes and turns her horse to start trotting to camp. “I’ll see a healer after the meeting. Let’s go.”  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-  
_**  
It takes far longer than Arya likes to gather the council and set up the tent in which they’re meeting. Everyone is gathered around the table with a map of Westeros in the middle. Outside, there is a pair of Unsullied in front of every wall the tent has.  
  
Arya’s shoulder felt like it was on fire, the arrowhead still lodged deep inside but she refuses to see anyone until the meeting is over.  
  
The young Stark reaches over to the map, pointing at a spot above Winterfell. “This is Whitehill’s seat, Highpoint. The man that attacked us was wearing their sigil.” She locks eyes with the Queen. “He said Cersei sent him.”  
  
Daenerys grits her teeth, “If that’s true, then she has pull in the North.” She turns to Jon. “I thought that, as _King in the North_ , the _entire_ North was behind you.”  
  
Jon sighs and waves his hand over the map. “Every house in the North pledged themselves to me, Your Grace, in our fight against the Night King.”  
  
“And now that the fight is over, they’re all gonna do whatever it pleases them? I thought a _King_ had better control over his people than this.” Jon lowers his eyes at the slight.  
  
Arya watches as Jon cowers under his Queen and holds back the urge to roll her eyes. “At the moment, it doesn’t matter if Jon has control over the Northman. What matters is finding out where in the North Cersei has supporters.”  
  
Tyrion rounds the table, walking closer to the Northern part of the map. “During the fight for Winterfell, House Whitehill was a bannerman of the Boltons, who followed my father during the War of the Five Kings. Houses Umber and Karstark were the other bannermen.”  
  
Jon frowns, “Both Houses are extinct. No one holds Last Hearth or Karhold. Stark soldiers are currently keeping peace there. However, House Warrick is a vassal to Whitehill.”  
  
Tyrion claps his hands. “Good, we’ll start there. We must make sure Whitehill and Warrick swear loyalty to Jon and dig out those who oppose.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Lord Tyrion, but why would they swear themselves to Jon instead of me?” Daenerys questions, a fire inside of her that’s been raging since Arya first tackled her to the ground to protect her.  
  
The Imp takes a deep breath, glances at Varys briefly before explaining his reasons. “I believe it’ll be easier if they swear themselves to House Stark while we fight for your throne, Your Grace.”  
  
“They’ve already sworn themselves to House Stark, and yet one of them tried to assassinate me today.” The Queen turns to Jon and stares at him as she speaks, “There will be no such pledge until I’m sitting on the Iron Throne.”  
  
Arya watches the power play happen. Honestly, this is not what she intended of this meeting. She needs these people to put thrones and Houses and such behind them in order to look at the root of the problem.  
  
Daenerys was almost killed today. Cersei is not above sending assassins for the Mother of Dragons. She’s no stranger to playing dirty and using politics to get her way.  
  
Arya frowns then. Is it really a good idea to forego killing the Lannisters in order to show Daenerys compassion? This incident only confirms what she’s been trying to ignore. As long as there is a threat to her throne, Cersei will not stop terrorizing people.  
  
Daenerys Targaryen is very much a threat and Cersei Lannister will not stop until she’s gone.  
  
Arya glances at Jon then. What would Cersei do if she finds out about Jon? At this sudden thought, Arya straightens up. Jon is too honorable, too trusting. He has such a narrow mind that, when he’s hyper-focused on something, everything else becomes background noise.  
  
And while that’s something she shares with him, life has taught her enough to know that, if she doesn’t pay attention, she could get hurt. He still has the hope that there’s always a more honorable way, and it could cost him his life.   
  
It cost him the support of the South during the Winter War.  
  
No, she won’t let that happen. No one’s going to hurt Jon.  
  
Cersei has to die.   
  
The Stark stirs the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Who cares about pledges at the moment?” Arya ignores the sharp look Daenerys gives her and waves her hand towards the camp outside of the tent walls. “What matters right now is that we don’t know who is willing to try something against the Dragon Queen.”  
  
A tense silence follows her words, but she doesn’t let it sit for long. She turns to Jon next. “We also don’t know if Winterfell is safe. If they’re planning on attacking there, too.”  
  
Jon inhales sharply and turns to Davos. “We need to send men to Winterfell.”  
  
Daenerys rears back, “No, your men will march South with the rest of my army.”  
  
“But Your Grace – “  
  
“No, _Lord Snow_ , we need the men.”  
  
Her nephew huffs and starts pacing. Davos takes pity on him and tries to offer him a solution. “I can take a horse and ride North, talk to the Free Folk and convince ‘em to come back down to defend Winterfell until we’re back.”  
  
Jon sighs and shakes his head. “They’ve already done so much. I don’t think they’ll agree to it. And They’re already on their way to the Wall.”  
  
Arya frowns, “It’s worth a shot. We helped save them, offered them a home. They can return the favor just this once.”  
  
“They don’t owe us anything.”  
  
“They owe us everything.”  
  
Similar gray eyes clash for what seems like their first time ever disagreeing. Arya breaks the contact first, Jon watching her the entire time, as she turns to Davos. “Take a horse and ride North, Ser Davos. Catch up to the Free Folk and let them know that we will personally escort them to the Wall once we’re back as a thank you for defending Winterfell while we’re away.”  
  
Her words carry an edge to them that tell Davos that he is to listen to her, regardless of the fact that he follows her brother. Davos hesitates then nods, turning to leave.   
  
Jon stares at Arya in disbelief. “Arya, what are you – “  
  
Arya gazes at him sharply, her emotionless eyes startling him slightly. “The men united and followed you in order to fight against the Night King. He’s gone and the Dragon Queen is now asking for our aid in order to get her throne so she can better our country.”  
  
The Stark takes a deep breath, swallows past the sudden lump in her throat and squashes down all of her emotions. She’s taking charge of the situation because her brother doesn’t seem to notice just how bad it is.   
  
She’s doing this to save Jon.  
  
She’s doing this for _him_.  
  
Even if it hurts him.  
  
“The men named you King in the North to defeat the Night King. But don’t forget that, right here, _I’m_ the true power in the North, and the men will always follow _me_.”  
  
A ringing silence follows her statement, this time much more pronounced than the last. Jon’s eyes stare into hers, filled with hurt and betrayal. Arya just clenches her fists and focuses on the pain in her shoulder in order to push past the pain in her heart.  
  
Missandei, Grey Worm and Kovarro keep silent. They’re not sure what is happening, but they can feel the shift in power at the table.  
  
Varys looks at the ground, a million thoughts running through his head. Tyrion stares at the siblings in shock, as no one has even hinted at Jon being a bastard in a long time.  
  
Daenerys stares at Jon first. From the first moment she met him, he’s always been an honorable man, honest to a fault. Now he’s being dishonored and basically usurped by his little sister – _cousin_ – because he can’t seem to get a grip on his part in this war.  
  
Her violet eyes look at the young Stark. Arya has been a wild card since the very beginning. Her threats and blatant dismissals, her disregard for everything traditional is a thing that many people were not fond of, herself included at times.   
  
Watching this stand-off, Daenerys isn’t too surprised that it’s happening. Someone was bound to push Jon out of the power seat sooner or later. What surprises her is that it’s Arya who’s doing it. She always thought Sansa would be the one to stand up to Jon.  
  
Arya breaks the stare off with her brother to gaze into violet eyes. “The Northmen will be joining the Unsullied and Dothraki down the Kingsroad but none of them will be joining you on the way to Dragonstone. We need to weed out the traitors, so only your own men should be sailing with you.”  
  
Daenerys nods at that. She’s glad someone is thinking of her safety and trying to solve their situation. Because at the rate they’re going, neither her Hand, her Master of Whispers or her nephew are doing so.  
  
The Targaryen turns to Varys, “Find out who the traitors are.” He just bows his head in acknowledgement.   
  
Daenerys turns back to the map and frowns. This shift in Northern power poses no difference in her army, as the North will always follow a Stark before anyone else, and this Stark seems loyal to her, despite not kneeling.  
  
The fact still stands that there are people hired by Cersei that wish to end her. Northern people to be more specific. That’s why she’s gonna go through with the plan that’s been brewing in her head for a while now.  
  
Hostages.  
  
“Lady Stark,” she begins, breaking the solemn silence inside of the tent. She glances briefly at Jon to see him brooding. “You will be joining me on my trip to Dragonstone. While I acknowledge your new position as head of the Northern army, Jon will be the one to lead the army down the Kingsroad.”  
  
Arya hesitates for the briefest of moments, chances a glance at Jon then nods at the Queen.  
  
Daenerys feels some of the tension leave her shoulders. While she somewhat trusts the Stark girl, especially with what has happened today, she doesn’t trust the Northern army. And they won’t act rashly if the Princess of Winterfell is in her possession, whether they realize it’s intentional or not.  
  
It also doesn’t hurt to have an extra person who seems intent on protecting her along for the ride.  
  
Arya turns to Tyrion, “I need to send a raven about this to Sansa and let her know to raise the defenses. Can you show me to the rookery?”  
  
Missandei finds her voice then, stepping up to the Stark and pointing at her injury. “You can do that after a healer looks at you.”  
  
Despite the tense atmosphere still surrounding them, Daenerys smirks in amusement as Arya tries to brush off Missandei’s concern but the advisor persists. In the end, the Stark stays put while Missandei goes to fetch the healer.  
  
In the meantime, Arya explains to Kovarro where the body of the dead Northman can be found so that the Dothraki can retrieve it.  
  
Daenerys then glances at Jon and ends up locking gazes with him. His eyes are pleading with her, begging her to reconsider everything. The Queen just narrows her eyes and turns to Grey Worm, telling him to ready the troops.  
  
They are to depart from the army and ride to White Harbor tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I hate doing this to Jon but Arya thinks it's for the best. But honestly, it's like taking three steps forward and five backwards with this lot.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter V

**_Chapter V:_**  
  
Missandei and Arya are sitting in what has been dubbed as the study and meeting room inside of the ship. They are having a full-fledged conversation in High Valyrian between each other while Daenerys reads a book on the Crownlands across the desk from them. Nymeria is dozing off across the room from them.   
  
Something that Arya says makes Missandei giggle and it snaps Daenerys out of her focus on the words in front of her. She lets her eyes stray towards them and tunes into their conversation.   
  
The Stark is telling some story about a prank she pulled on her sister when they were kids. The way Missandei reaches up to cover her mouth as she giggles at the tales has Daenerys smiling softly. After everything they’ve gone through, she’s glad that something as simple as imagining a bed full of dung is enough to make the Naathi smile.   
  
Daenerys doesn’t want to admit it but having the Northern girl around the past week while sailing has been somewhat of an adventure itself.   
  
Arya seems to know her way around the ship and can often be spotted helping the crew out. Sometimes she’s sparring with the Unsullied. Other times, she’s quiet, alone up on the bowsprit, looking out to the rest of the world.  
  
Then there were times like now, where she was genuinely enjoying talking to anyone around her. Most of the times, it was with Missandei, as they’ve formed somewhat of a student-teacher bond. She’s also warmed up to Grey Worm after they spent a whole evening talking about weapons.   
  
With Daenerys herself, however, there’s still a tense air about her. Arya treats her like she’s just any other person, not just the Queen. Daenerys doesn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it annoys her that she’s not regarded with the level of formality she should be. But she also appreciates not being treated as the Queen for a few moments.   
  
Arya tends to talk to her like she’s regarding her every action and word. The Queen has never been scrutinized this closely before, and she’s unsure how to go about this strange kinship she’s found with the Stark.  
  
Daenerys shakes herself from her thoughts and focuses on the conversation in front of her.   
  
“ _My sister has always wanted to be a Lady or Queen, and I enjoyed knocking her down a few pegs as a child_.” Arya explains in High Valyrian. Missandei smiles in amusement and a little pride at the fact they’ve been speaking Valyrian for a few hours now.  
  
Arya sees Daenerys looking at them and turns the conversation to her. “ _What about you, Dragon Queen? Have you always wanted to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?_ ”  
  
Daenerys frowns and sets her book down. She looks at Missandei, who was staring at her with curious eyes. She looks out the window to the sea.  
  
“ _My brother Viserys was the one who dreamed of being King. He talked about it constantly, devised plan after plan so that he could have his crown. He eventually got it._ ”  
  
Arya watches as the Queen’s eyes seem to drift off to a different world. Her eyebrows furrow, mouth tilting downward.   
  
“ _The Iron Throne was a far off thought then. I was content being Khaleesi to Khal Drogo’s khalasar. Then Robert Baratheon’s men tried to kill me and my son, and Drogo promised me the throne._ ” Daenerys seems to come back to herself then.  
  
She turns to look at the other two women with fire in her eyes. “ _I’ve wanted it since. And nothing is gonna stop me from getting it._ ”  
  
Arya hums in understanding. She wants to keep pushing the subject, wants to go further into the woman’s history. She knows how to spot a sensitive subject, though, so she changes the topic.  
  
“ _If you’re a Queen, where’s your crown_?”  
  
“ _One will be made when I’m coronated._ ”  
  
Arya goes to make a witty remark when suddenly, the boat is rocked to one side. The three women look at each other and Arya jumps to her feet. She’s about to run up the stairs when she turns around to address them.  
  
“Stay here,” she commands then turns to run up the stairs, Nymeria hot on her heels.  
  
Once up on the deck, Arya sees the men working to try to keep the boat balanced on the water. She turns to the quarterdeck, where the men are stepping away from and where all the commotion seems to be.  
  
Only to see that the biggest of Daenerys’ dragons has landed on the wooden rails. He seems to be searching all of the men aboard, looking for his mother.  
  
Daenerys comes out from underneath the deck and turns to look at Drogon. He growls softly at the sight of her. She approaches him in confusion and reaches out to caress his snout.  
  
Arya hears a shriek from further away and sees the other dragon flying low, close to their ship. She has had no chance to admire them before but now that they’re the closest they’ve ever been to her, she’s awestruck.  
  
“Drogon, what’s wrong?”  
  
Daenerys pets Drogon, a frown on her features. She senses a certain unease from him. She’s come to learn that her dragons are smart, and Drogon especially can sometimes communicate with human-like gestures.   
  
Like at the moment, where he’s nudging her softly towards his neck. As if he wants her to fly on him. He’s never encouraged her on before. Usually she lets him know what’s on her mind and he’ll go along with it. He’s never initiated flight himself.  
  
It sets her on edge.  
  
Daenerys turns to her men to address them. “Be ready for anything. The dragons are restless.” She turns back to Drogon and starts climbing onto his back.   
  
Once his mother is situated, Drogon roars and takes flight, Rhaegal following him to the skies.   
  
Grey Worm immediately starts issuing orders to his soldiers. Arya grabs Missandei by her hand and leads her over to the Unsullied commander. “Whatever happens, stick close to Grey Worm and Nymeria.” Missandei nods and Arya takes off towards the bow of the ship.  
  
It takes a while before she sees anything as there’s a huge plot of land they were rounding. As soon as they’re past the land, her eyes widen.   
  
About two dozen of Euron Greyjoy’s ships are blocking the path to Dragonstone. They’re a lot closer than Arya would’ve liked. Close enough that if the dragons were to breathe fire on them, the Targaryen fleet would also take some damage.   
  
They prepared an ambush.  
  
Arya turns to the soldiers behind her. “ _There’s a fleet closing in on us!_ ”  
  
At her words, Grey Worm starts issuing commands again.   
  
Arya hears a shriek and sees Daenerys dropping down from the clouds to attack the rear formation of the enemy’s fleet. Her eyes go back to the ships in front of her and her breath catches in her throat as she sees a handful of ships shooting massive arrows towards the two dragons.   
  
Scorpions.  
  
Arya watches as the dragons dodge them all. Her eyes trace the rest of the ships that did not shoot bolts. She sees that some of the ships that had yet to shoot had the scorpions pointed at the Targaryen fleet. Arya turns to run back to the deck.   
  
“Get down!” She screams but it’s too late as a bolt tears through the middle of the ship. She sees Tyrion, Varys, Missandei and Grey Worm stumble as the wood underneath them all gives. Nymeria barks at her, ready to head towards her in a leap.  
  
Another bolt cuts through the middle of the deck, separating the Stark from the rest of the advisors and the direwolf.   
  
Arya locks eyes with Missandei. The Naathi stares back in concern then looks at the dragons up in the sky. The Northern girl follows her gaze towards where Daenerys is trying to battle but is having to dodge bolts more often than not. Arya looks at Euron’s fleet and makes a split decision.  
  
She has to tell Daenerys to retreat.  
  
“Get out of here!” She yells at them just before another bolt runs through the ship, just barely missing where Tyrion is bracing himself against a mast.   
  
Arya sees Rhaegal retreat slightly after narrowly avoiding a scorpion arrow. He dives towards the water to gain speed then hauls himself up to fly perpendicular with the sea. Arya sees an opportunity as he starts to bypass the ship she’s on. At the same time, she sees another bolt being loaded on the scorpion facing her ship.   
  
_‘Get off the ship, get off the ship, get off the ship!’  
_  
Arya sprints towards the bowsprit again, this time continuing on the dragon headpiece and leaping off.   
  
She’s airborne for what seems like a lifetime but is actually only three seconds before she lands on Rhaegal’s back, right where his wings meet his body.   
  
He seems spooked by her sudden weight, so he jerks backwards and stops midflight.   
  
Arya does all she can to hold on as he all of a sudden shoots upwards. She grabs onto his spikes and nudges just under his wing with her heel. Rhaegal shrieks and dives towards Drogon in search of his mother.   
  
Arya can now see both fleets. Euron has only lost three ships to dragonfire but the Targaryen fleet is completely destroyed. She sees people swimming towards the shore and hopes that everyone is alright.   
  
Her thought process is disrupted when she sees a bolt heading her way. Arya gives Rhaegal a sharp tug and nudge with her heel. He rears back and to the left, avoiding the arrow.  
  
Arya loses her grip and slides sideways. Her only perch now is the spike she’s holding onto with one hand as the rest of her body dangles in midair. She’s pulling herself up when Drogon flies past her and rattles her.  
  
“What in seven hells are you doing, Stark?!” Daenerys snarls at her, just as both dragons fly higher to avoid getting hit.   
  
Arya situates herself properly again and faces the Queen. “We need to get out of here! The fleet is destroyed!”  
  
Daenerys looks down at her fleet and seems momentarily struck. Her eyes search the waters below for her men and advisors. When she recognizes nothing but little black dots in the water heading to shore, she turns back to the Northerner.   
  
“I have dragons, we can beat them!”  
  
Arya shakes her head and has to hold on for dear life when Rhaegal suddenly dives in order to avoid a couple of bolts. She sees Drogon mimic his brother, following them as they fly over the enemy fleet. She takes a few deep breaths, grasps the spikes firmly and nudges Rhaegal forward.  
  
 _‘It’s just like riding a horse,’_ she thinks as she urges the dragon to fly faster. She notices a bolt flying towards them and gets her world turned upside down when Rhaegal barrels rolls to dodge the weapon.   
  
_‘Or not,’_ Arya holds back the urge to puke after the sudden movement. Rhaegal flies up to be on par with Drogon. Arya looks to the Targaryen. “We can’t win this while they have the bolts! We have to retreat!” She looks back to see the fleet loading more bolts and makes the decision herself, urging Rhaegal to fly ahead.  
  
Daenerys grits her teeth and guides Drogon towards Dragonstone, following her other dragon.   
  
**_-IYHIBYT-_**  
  
Arya grunts as she feels Rhaegal land on a field just behind the castle on Dragonstone. She sighs in relief at finally being on solid ground. She’s just about to affectionally pat the scales underneath her when Rhaegal starts swinging his head side to side, trying to shake her off.  
  
The Stark doesn’t have a firm grip on him so she goes flying to the ground, landing on her back just a few feet away from the dragon. Arya groans in pain as she lifts herself onto her elbows. She feels an abnormal amount of heat on her face and opens her eyes.  
  
Only to come face to face with the green dragon growling menacingly at her. His lips are pulled back into a snarl, revealing his large teeth. He’s towering over her, trapping her underneath him with his frame.  
  
Arya freezes, not wanting to make any sudden moves and irritate him further. She probably got away with flying on him without permission in the heat of the moment, but she might not be as lucky now that danger wasn’t surrounding them.  
  
“Rhaegal! Stop!” Daenerys orders as she approaches them, having just landed with Drogon. The Queen steps towards her green dragon and caresses his muzzle in an effort to calm him.  
  
His growling slows to a stop after a moment. He snaps his jaw at Arya once in warning then turns to crawl over to his brother.   
  
Arya releases a shaky breath and moves to stand.   
  
Daenerys gives her no time to recover as she rounds on the younger woman. “Are you mad?! You can’t just jump onto a dragon and expect everything to be okay! Do you not fear for your life?!”  
  
Arya sees the emotions running through the Queen’s eyes. Anger, disbelief, astonishment, worry. She frowns, guilt gnawing at her, and bows her head.  
  
“ _Valar Morghulis_ , Dragon Queen. I did not mean to worry you or hurt your son. I apologize.”  
  
Daenerys blinks in confusion at the ease of the apology. She ignores the feelings of worry and fear in her chest in favor of scoffing. “Just don’t do it again.”  
  
Arya nods silently then turns to walk to the edge of the field they’re on. She looks towards the shore and sees some men starting to trickle in from the wrecked ships.   
  
“We should get down there.” She suggests and starts heading in towards the shore, the Queen following her.  
  
The walk down to the shore is quiet and by the time they get there, more men have come ashore.  
  
Along with Nymeria.  
  
“Nym!” Arya shouts in relief, her arms spread wide as the direwolf runs towards her. The Stark is tackled to the ground, her face getting licked by an excited overgrown puppy. “Well, aren’t you a good girl. Way batter than that little shit.” Arya finishes, glaring back up at Rhaegal behind them.   
  
As if sensing he’s being talked about, Rhaegal turns his heads towards them, locks eyes with her and snarls. He roars loudly at her in distaste and turns his back to her.  
  
Arya scoffs in disbelief and starts to stand. She scans the shore while absentmindedly scratching at Nymeria’s neck. She sees Grey Worm emerging from the water while Varys and Tyrion recover. Her eyes look for a head with wet curls further in the water at the same time that Daenerys asks the question she’s thinking.  
  
“Where’s Missandei?” Daenerys asks no one in particular as she looks around the shore for her friend.  
  
Nymeria whines and bumps her head into Arya’s chest rather roughly. Arya frowns down at her and grasps her muzzle. The direwolf whines again and pushes further into her human.   
  
“Where’s Missandei?” Daenerys asks again, this time directing the question at Grey Worm.   
  
Arya is trying to pay attention to Daenerys but Nymeria keeps pushing at her. “Not so hard, girl. What’s going on with you, Nymeria?” Arya watches as the direwolf sniffs the air in the direction of the advisors, whines and once again slams her head into her sternum.   
  
The Stark furrows her forehead in confusion at her actions, glances at the advisors then back at her direwolf. Realization strikes her then, just as she can hear Daenerys demand an answer from her quiet and sullen Unsullied commander.  
  
 ** _-IYHIBYT-  
_**  
Missandei’s gone.  
  
Whether that means she perished in the battle, drowned or reached shore somewhere else was anyone’s guess.   
  
Arya had gathered Missandei’s personal belongings from the castle, made Nymeria get familiar with the scent and sent her off to look for the missing Naathi.   
  
Every night that passes, Arya inhabits Nymeria’s body in her dreams to see if there’s any progress but the direwolf was still on the search.  
  
Daenerys had sent out troops to search all of Dragonstone, both on land and sea. Every single time, they’ve come back empty-handed.  
  
The Queen hasn’t been seen outside of her room in a week, sometimes only coming out to send troops out. She hasn’t been eating or sleeping, and whenever someone tries to approach her about something other than Missandei, she snaps.   
  
Arya’s seen all of this as she’s been keeping a close eye on the Targaryen. And in doing so, she’s discovered many things.   
  
For example, the fact that the Queen’s own advisors are plotting against her.   
  
They’re also not very discreet about it, as she’s currently leaning against a pillar inside what’s Dragonstone’s throne room, silent in the shadows.  
  
“I worry about her state of mind.”  
  
“We’re her advisors. That’s our job.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
Arya rolls her eyes behind the pillars. Hearing these two men going back and forth on the same subject for the past week has been getting on her nerves.   
  
“Perhaps Jon Snow is the solution. You know them both, who do you think will make a better ruler?”  
  
The Northern girl hears a small clank and several gulps, imagines Tyrion is downing his wine.  
  
“He doesn’t want the throne. There’s a reason why he bent the knee – “  
  
“Have you considered that the best ruler might be someone who doesn’t want to rule?”  
  
“We’re talking about treason here, Lord Varys.”  
  
“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.”  
  
“Of course I’ve thought about it but thoughts aren’t treason.”  
  
Varys starts listing qualities Jon possesses that’ll make him a great ruler. Arya only frowns further in thought.  
  
Could it be that this is a trigger for madness? Daenerys’ best friend and personal advisor missing, not present to soothe the Dragon Queen’s ire? Is it her advisors conspiring with each other behind her back, proving to her that she’s alone and should trust no one? Or is it Jon being forced to claim his birthright by everyone else around them, thus taking the Iron Throne – something she’s fought for, for years – from her just for being a man?  
  
There are so many things that could possibly push the Targaryen into madness. Arya can’t do much about Missandei – she refuses to believe she’s dead – or whether Jon decides to claim the throne. But messy dealings, betrayal and secrets she can deal with.  
  
It’s what she was trained for.  
  
“I will act in the Realm’s interest, no matter the personal cost.”  
  
“What happens to her?”  
  
An eerie silence follows, a silence that has Arya biting down on her tongue and clenching her fists tight.  
  
“I’ve spoken as honestly as I can. We each have a choice to make. I pray that we choose wisely.”  
  
Footsteps echo through the room as they make their way towards the door. Arya slinks further into the darkness as a precaution. Once the door was closed again, the Stark takes a peek around the pillar. She sees Tyrion sullenly staring into the fireplace.  
  
Arya waits in the shadows long after Tyrion has left the room. It’s only after she’s sure no one is walking the hallways that she leaves the room. She heads straight to the royal chambers.  
  
If Varys wants to act against the Queen, now is the perfect time to do so.  
  
She stops in front of the door leading into the royal chambers and stares at the two Unsullied standing guard.   
  
“ _Let me in. I need to speak with the Queen._ ”  
  
“ _The Queen is not seeing anyone._ ”  
  
“ _There’s no time for this. The Queen is in danger. I need to talk to her about safety precautions._ ” Arya looks up and down the halls, steps closer to them and whispers to them in High Valyrian. “ _Do not let anyone other than me and Grey Worm into this room. Not even the handmaidens with food._ ”  
  
At the prospect of the Queen being potentially in trouble, the two guards look at each other before turning back to her. “ _Very well, but we’re getting the Commander, as well._ ”  
  
Arya frowns but nods and watches as one of the guards leaves. The other guard opens the door for her and she walks in.   
  
The room is pitch black, save for a handful of candles on the table by the bed and the balcony door being wide open, letting the moonlight in.  
  
Arya walks towards the balcony after a brief glance at the empty bed. She steps out into the night and finds the Queen curled up on a chair, staring out into the ocean.  
  
The Northern girl clears her throat to announce her presence. Daenerys is startled out of her trance, wide violet eyes meeting gray ones. The Queen is in a night gown, with her hair down and no shoes. There are bags under her eyes and her cheeks are a bit hollowed out.   
  
Arya can’t help but think she still looks beautiful.   
  
Daenerys stands, tension building in her shoulders as she addresses the Stark.  
  
“Lady Stark, I believe you have no permission to be here.”  
  
“Sorry for the late hour but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”  
  
“Something that couldn’t wait till morning?”  
  
Arya smiles wryly, “Would you have received my presence in the morning?”  
  
Daenerys narrows her eyes and turns to walk into her room, the silence answer enough. The Stark follows her inside and watches as the Queen grabs a candle and lights the rest of the room. Off to the side of the room was a table with many scrolls and books thrown about.  
  
Daenerys motions towards one of the chairs as she reaches for a goblet and bottle.   
  
“Tell me why I shouldn’t have the guards throw you out right now.”  
  
Arya frowns and strides towards the alcohol. She gently pries the goblet out of the Targaryen’s hands, ignoring the indignant huff from the woman, and inspects the item in the light. Once she sees no traces of poison, she grabs the bottle and opens it.   
  
The Stark then reaches for her dagger and cuts a thin line down her thumb. She lets a drop of blood spill onto a piece of parchment on the table and tilts the bottle of wine enough to let a few drops fall onto the blood.   
  
Daenerys watches, in slight awe and confusion, as the girl goes through the motions, and stirs the blood and alcohol together. The two liquids mix together, and after a few moments, Arya tears the piece of parchment off.   
  
She holds the paper over the flame of a candle and drops the mixed liquids onto the fire. The alcohol makes the fire burn brighter for a moment before it settles back down.  
  
Daenerys waits as Arya fills her goblet with wine before speaking. “What exactly was that for?”  
  
“I was checking for poison.”  
  
The Queen rears back in shock, bewilderment written all over her features. “Poison? Who in Dragonstone would want to poison me?”  
  
Arya sheathes her dagger and sits. “Half of the world wants your head right now.” She points out, waits until the Queen is seated before continuing. “But that’s precisely why I wanted to talk to you tonight. You’re in danger.”  
  
Daenerys huffs out a small incredulous laugh. “Lady Stark, I’m in danger the moment I climb onto my dragons. I’m in danger the second I step foot on Westerosi land. I was in danger the moment I was born.” She glares at the girl, daring her to dispute anything she’s just said. Arya remains silent.  
  
“I suggest you tell me why you’re here unless you wanna be in _danger_ of sleeping in the dungeons tonight.”  
  
Arya grins slightly, “Now who’s the one throwing threats around?” She sees the Queen’s grip on the goblet tighten, her eyes flashing with rage, and complies. “I’m here because I made a vow. A vow to stop the terror on Westeros, and help place a fair and just Queen on the throne.”  
  
“And whom did you make this vow to?”  
  
“Myself,” Daenerys raises her eyebrow at this, so Arya continues. “I was in King’s Landing when the War of the Five Kings started. I travelled up the Kingsroad and its surrounding lands during the bulk of it, and was witness to the horror that war and a mad King brought. I never want Westeros to go through that again.”  
  
Daenerys is a little mesmerized, despite her reservations, as the Stark tells her story. She had heard from Jon and Tyrion how Arya and Sansa had been in the Red Keep when their father was captured. And while Sansa had been taken hostage then later fled after Joffrey’s death, no one had known what happened to Eddard Stark’s youngest daughter. So, she had been declared dead.  
  
Oh, how wrong they were.  
  
Arya, for her part, isn’t too sure about telling the Targaryen her story. She’s told Sansa, and Bran knows because he’s, well, Bran but they’re the only ones who truly know about her. And telling Daenerys may or may not come back to bite her in the ass but she’s gonna need something to back up her claims against two people who have devoted the past couple of years of their lives to the Queen.  
  
“I was so angry at the world for the situations I had been put through, and I wanted to take revenge on those who’d wronged my family. So, I went east and sought out the best assassin masters in the world, the House of Black and White.”  
  
Daenerys blinks in shock as everything starts falling into place. How fearless this girl is. The confident way she hands out threats as if she had all the power in the world to go through with them. How seamlessly she can fight any opponent and best them. She was the only one able to defeat the Night King, for crying out loud.  
  
With the amount of time the Stark was gone, she could have perfected any way to assassinate people.  
  
“You’re saying that you’re a Faceless Man?”  
  
Arya searches the Queen’s face, finding nothing but shock and a small hint of fear. The Faceless Men were known throughout the whole Known World. It was of no surprise that Daenerys had heard of them.   
  
“I was. I left them after I decided I needed to take my revenge. I wiped out House Frey and, after hearing how Sansa took back Winterfell, I headed home.” Arya looks away from violet eyes to stare out the balcony. “I could’ve gone and finished Cersei off, but home and family was more important to me.”  
  
The wheels in Daenerys’ mind start turning, thinking of a way to take advantage of this girl’s skills in order to get the throne. If what she’s saying is the truth.   
  
“So, you’re an assassin.”  
  
Arya sees the direction this conversation could take but refrains from letting it go down that road. “I was. The Faceless Men train in combat and war but they also train in espionage.”  
  
“A spy?” Daenerys frowns and stands in indignation. “Are you spying on me for your brother, then?”  
  
Arya furrows her forehead at the misunderstanding. “No, Jon doesn’t know about my time on Braavos. What I’m saying is that I’m skilled in the arts of uncovering secrets and reconnaissance. As a result, I’ve found out that both of your advisors discuss treason behind your back.”  
  
Daenerys leans her hands on the table, eyes searching the documents in front of her. The Northern girl’s words don’t surprise her much. She’s aware she hasn’t been the fair queen they all thought of her in the beginning. She’s been taken advantage of too many times and sat back, doing nothing about it.   
  
Did they really think she was gonna keep letting people do that without fighting back?  
  
Varys doesn’t surprise her in the least. He’s already warned her once, she assumes he’d rather take his chances against her than attempt a second time. Tyrion surprises her. He’s supported her and defended her to those who rose up against her.   
  
To say that his betrayal hurt was an understatement.  
  
That is to say if she trusts Arya’s word. The young woman has saved her life, twice if she counts getting her to retreat to Dragonstone last week. She’s given her counsel a handful of times and had been just as heartbroken about Missandei as the rest of them.   
  
There’s just something about those imploring gray eyes that stir something inside her. She’d felt a glimmer of it when Jon had first presented himself in front of her here in Dragonstone, and she feels it with the young Stark tenfold. Her insides are screaming at her to trust Arya.   
  
But anyone can state that they’re a fearless assassin and spy. Statements like these have to be backed up.   
  
Just as the Queen is about to ask for proof, there’s a knock on her door.   
  
Arya immediately stands, hand hovering over her sword. She steps closer to the Targaryen – it does not go unnoticed by the Queen – and stares at the door.   
  
“Come in.” Daenerys commands and her door opens to reveal Grey Worm and Varys. After a brief glance at Arya, the Queen waves them in.  
  
The Stark tenses immediately, eyes searching the Master of Whispers for any weapons. She sees his face scrunch up in confusion at her presence before he masks it well. After making sure he’s clear, she locks eyes with the Unsullied Commander.   
  
He either must have been told what she discussed with the guards earlier or he knew to be wary himself. Grey Worm nods at her once in acknowledgement, eyes flicking to his companion before landing on her again.  
  
“Grey Worm,” Daenerys greets, “I was just about to ask for you to report today’s scout.”  
  
Grey Worm pursues his lips and shakes his head slightly. “Nothing, Your Grace.”  
  
Daenerys closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When her violet eyes open again, all everyone can see is sadness and grief. “Thank you, Commander. Please continue your efforts.” She turns to her advisor then.  
  
“Lord Varys, is there anything I can help you with at this hour?”  
  
Varys looks from the Queen to the Northerner before settling back on the Queen. “Yes, Your Grace. You’ve received a message from King’s Landing.” He holds out the scroll of parchment.  
  
Daenerys frowns in confusion and breaks the seal on the scroll. She reads the words carefully, once then twice before throwing the paper towards the other side of the room in a sudden fit of rage and anger.   
  
Arya ducks just time to avoid getting hit in the face by flying paper. She scans the two men in the room, makes sure the Queen is safely seething away from them before striding across the room and retrieving the paper.  
  
She walks back to the two men and starts reading the words aloud.   
  
“’Dragon Queen, your surrender is of paramount importance as we’ve taken your precious islander. You have three days’ time to surrender or her pretty blood will run through King’s Landing. Kind regards, Cersei Lannister and Euron Greyjoy, Queen and King of the Seven Kingdoms.’”  
  
Arya scrunches up the parchment and holds it over a candle. She watches as the paper burns, just as bright as the rage burning in her chest.  
  
Missandei has become a great friend to the Northerner. She’s a wise woman, full of stories and anecdotes that often leave Arya enthralled. She reminds the girl of another Stark, one lost to this world at too young of an age. The same innocence and wonder at the world that she remembers Rickon having is often reflected in Missandei’s eyes.  
  
It didn’t take long for the Naathi to find her way into Arya’s heart as a dear friend and teacher.   
  
And if she’s feeling this way, Arya can’t imagine what Daenerys is feeling. The woman is currently seething silently by the unlit fireplace, eyes staring at the firewood as if she can light it up with her mind.   
  
That’s when Arya knows this is it. This is what causes King’s Landing’s fall. This is when she needs to intervene.   
  
Arya is gonna find a way to get Missandei back, and make Cersei pay for this herself.  
  
She will not let Daenerys do this to herself, or to the kingdom.  
  
Swallowing back her sudden nervousness, Arya stalks up to the Queen. Waits until fiery, rage-filled violet eyes are staring hard into her determined gray ones.  
  
And sinks down to one knee.  
  
Daenerys’ eyes widen slightly as Arya takes Needle and the Valyrian dagger out of their sheathes and crosses them over her raised knee. She keeps eye contact for a moment longer before she bows her head.  
  
“Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I, Arya of House Stark, offer my sword to you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel. I will give my life for yours if need be.” Arya raises her head and makes eye contact again.  
  
“I will get Missandei back to you. Even if it costs me my life. I swear it by the gods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Mulan for the 'get off the ship, get off the ship, get off the ship' idea! Also fun fact, this is chapter 5 and has 5,555 words. I was gonna leave the bending of the knee for next chapter but this is a good place to stop this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter VI

**_Chapter VI:  
_**  
Daenerys stares wide-eyed at the Stark girl kneeling in front of her. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears, her throat is suddenly closed, and she can feel a warmth filling her chest. Her eyes search the girl’s face for any signs of dishonesty but all she sees is an earnest expression.  
  
All she sees is passion and determination shining in those gray eyes. A determination to complete this sudden quest that, really, has nothing to do with Arya.  
  
There’s nothing in it for the Northerner. She has no reason for kneeling, has no allegiance to anyone but her brother – cousin – and she’d be gaining nothing from retrieving Missandei. If anything, the girl could die if she’s not careful.  
  
A throat clearing has Daenerys breaking eye contact to look over to Varys. He gestures at her gently, and she straightens up, remembering she has to accept the Stark’s fealty with words.  
  
“And I, Daenerys Targaryen, Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table.” Daenerys stares back into gray eyes, sees the earnest and open expression, and makes a choice.  
  
Arya Stark will be more than just a soldier to her.  
  
“And I pledge that I shall ask no service of you that will bring you or your House dishonor. I swear it by the gods.” She finishes strongly and offers her hand to the girl.  
  
Arya searches the violet eyes for a moment before reaching up to accept the hand as she stands, her blades in her other hand. She tightens her grip on the Queen’s hand slightly before letting go. Arya bows her head, knows there’s nothing else to talk about in present company then steps behind the Targaryen.  
  
Her place will now always be just behind the Queen, protecting and counseling her.  
  
Daenerys doesn’t know want to think about why, now that the girl is standing behind her, she suddenly feels wholly protected and safe. So, she focuses on more important matters.  
  
“Lord Varys,” she begins, breaking the silence. “Please gather Lord Tyrion and meet me in the council room as soon as you can. We have to discuss Missandei’s rescue.”  
  
Varys hesitates but acknowledges that the two warriors in the room will now stand behind Daenerys. He decides his best bet is to follow orders, so he nods and exits the room.  
  
Once she’s sure that he won’t be able to hear them, Daenerys turns to Arya once again.  
  
“I’m assuming you have a plan, then?” She asks as she heads towards her closet across the room in order to pull a robe on over her nightgown.  
  
Arya’s eyes furrow slightly and makes eye contact with Grey Worm. “I know King’s Landing better than anyone in Dragonstone. I can sneak in and get her.”  
  
Daenerys frowns as she ties the robe closer to her body. “What if they see you? Won’t anyone recognize you?”  
  
“It’s been eight years since I’ve been inside the Red Keep. No one will know who I am.”  
  
The Queen hums and strides closer. “You say you’re a Faceless Man. I’ve heard they have dark magic and can become anyone they wish.”  
  
Arya lets out a wry grin. “Not anyone.” Daenerys raises an eyebrow, so she hurries to explain. “If you mean to ask if I can change faces, I could. I would have to kill the person I intend to impersonate and perform a ritual. We don’t have time for that, however.”  
  
If only her bag full of faces wouldn’t have gone down with their ship.  
  
“What will you do, then?”  
  
The Stark walks over to the table and grabs a parchment that has a map of King’s Landing. She unfurls it and waves the other two closer. She points at the Northwestern wall of King’s Landing.  
  
“I can sneak into the city through here. There’s a small entrance between the Old Gate and the Dragon Gate. It’s where the illegal market trades go undetected. I’ll go east on the Street of Silk to where it meets the Street of Flour. Then go down the Street of Looms towards the Red Keep.”  
  
Arya pauses to make sure they’re following before continuing. “From there, I’ll sneak into the Red Keep using the secret tunnels that lead into the dungeons. That’s probably where they’re keeping her. We can exit the same way once I have Missandei. If we’re compromised, I’ll take River Row south to the Mud Gate and into Blackwater Rush.”  
  
Daenerys traces the pathways Arya plans on taking with her eyes. “What if you’re compromised at the Mud Gate? That’s where the Kingsroad is. They might expect us to travel by it.”  
  
Arya shrugs and points to two other points on the west wall. “Then we can use the King’s Gate or the Lion Gate. Or we lay low in Flea Bottom or the Street of Silk. I survived weeks inside of King’s Landing, undetected, while the entire City Watch and Kingsguard looked for me.”  
  
“Very well. Grey Worm, please gather your best men. They’ll accompany –“  
  
“No, I’m going alone.”  
  
Daenerys whips around to look at the Stark intensely. “While I’m aware you’re more than capable of handling yourself, I will not risk Missandei’s life inside a den of lions.”  
  
“If I’m alone, I would only need to worry about Missandei, not other soldiers making it out as well. The Unsullied are also very much recognizable. I plan on laying low if I have to.”  
  
Daenerys grits her teeth in frustration and turns back to the map.  
  
Grey Worm sees the struggle in his Queen’s face and clears his throat.  
  
“Stark should go alone.” Daenerys looks up at him in surprise and he nods resolutely. “They will be noticed less if it’s just her and Missandei.” He locks eyes with Arya and nods in respect.  
  
Arya swallows harshly at the sudden trust and pressure on her shoulders then looks at the Targaryen silently.  
  
Daenerys stares at them both. She thinks she can trust Arya, events from the last month have proven that to her. But it’s Missandei, her best friend and most trusted advisor. If something were to happen to her, the Dragon Queen doesn’t know what she’d do.  
  
She sighs in defeat and pushes past the lump in her throat. “Very well. But you better get her back.”  
  
Arya nods. “I shall leave at a moment’s notice. But first,” she turns to Grey Worm. “I trust you to watch after the Queen. Do not let Varys or the Lannister too close to her. They’re plotting something.”  
  
Grey Worm looks between the two women in front of him a couple of times before he nods.  
  
The Northerner turns back to the Queen. “In the meantime, it’d probably be best to act normal so as to not bring any suspicion to your advisors of the plan. Just meet Cersei at King’s Landing as if you were to truly surrender.”  
  
Daenerys frowns, “They won’t advise me to surrender easily. They want Cersei off the throne just as much as I do.”  
  
“Then don’t. They just can’t know that I’ll be in King’s Landing. Who knows who Varys is really serving? And Cersei is Tyrion’s sister, no matter how much they might hate each other, they’re still family. He still _cares_.”  
  
Arya sees Daenerys’ hesitant frown and steps in closer to her, voice lowering into a whisper. “I’ll get her back to you. No matter the cost.” She reaches over and cups the Queen’s elbow slightly, violet eyes following the movement. “But you need to do your work here. There’s an army at your back and half the continent following your orders. You need to lead them. I’ll take care of the more discreet work.”  
  
Daenerys looks back up into gray eyes and nods.  
  
 ** _~IYHIBYT~_**  
  
Daenerys follows Arya down to the beach, where there’s a boat ready for her.  
  
She has just finished her council meeting, leaving Grey Worm to ready his soldiers to march to King’s Landing tomorrow. Tyrion and Varys had insisted on not surrendering but on negotiating terms with Cersei in order to get Missandei back.  
  
Arya and Grey Worm had stood back behind the Queen silently while she had discussed plans with her advisors. When the meeting had finished, the two soldiers had followed her out without a word.  
  
Now they’re at the beach, getting Arya ready for her trip. Just before they reach the boat, however, Arya stops walking.  
  
Drogon and Rhaegal are laying on the shore, water lapping at their feet as they enjoy the cool sand underneath.  
  
Daenerys smiles slightly and heads towards them. Drogon seems to sense her and opens his eyes, huffing a little as he prepares to greet her.  
  
Rhaegal, however, growls and opens his eyes to immediately stare at Arya in disdain. Arya scoffs and crosses her arms.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last week.”  
  
“Well, what did you expect when you mounted him without permission?”  
  
“It’s been a week. He’s worse than Sansa when it comes to grudges.”  
  
Daenerys huffs out a laugh and reaches out to caress Rhaegal. She gestures at Arya to walk closer and gently grabs the girl’s hand to place it on his snout.  
  
Rhaegal jerks back slightly when he realizes the intention and the Queen can feel Arya’s hand tense up further in her grip.  
  
“ _It’s alright, Rhaegal. Arya is a friend._ ” Daenerys speaks softly in High Valyrian.  
  
Rhaegal has always been the most temperamental of her children. While Drogon has the strength of a leader – well, as much a leader as a dragon can be – and Viserion was the most curious and gentle of the three, Rhaegal is unruly, wild. His actions and flight unpredictable, hence she has always ridden on Drogon or Viserion instead.  
  
Jon had been the first one to ever take flight on Rhaegal, and he’d barely been able to handle it. Arya had followed and somehow, she’d survived and actually got a decent hang of it before being shaken to the ground.  
  
Arya takes a deep breath and places her hand on Rhaegal’s snout gently, ignoring the warning in his growls. She marvels at the smooth scales under her fingertips, shining emerald green in the moonlight. Her hand moves down his maw, caressing just under his chin.  
  
Rhaegal stops his growling immediately and leans further into her hand. She chuckles in disbelief and starts scratching at his now obvious sweet spot. A low rumbling can be heard from his chest and he closes his eyes in what can only be described as contentment.  
  
Arya grins and her eyes follow the contours of his massive frame, eventually falling onto his wings. They were still healing from the fight against Viserion, tears and gashes all along the leather-like webbing between bones.  
  
“ _Battling with my brother really did a number on you, huh?_ ” She whispers in High Valyrian. At being addressed, Rhaegal opens his eyes and stares at her. “ _I grew up on tales about your ancestors and predecessors. Massive creatures that ruled the skies and conquered lands._ ”  
  
Daenerys, who had left the two to bond as soon as Rhaegal had stopped growling and was attending to Drogon, stops petting him as she listens to what the Stark is saying. She watches, mesmerized, as Rhaegal ruffles his wings slightly at having attention.  
  
Drogon nudges her hand and she starts stroking him again but her full attention is on the Northerner as she talks with her child.  
  
“ _I was told all about Meraxes and Vhagar, about Balerion and Quicksilver. Along with those who rode them. They fought and won and got wounded and healed and fought again. To this day, tales are still spoken of them and all that they accomplished. So, don’t worry,_ ”  
  
Gray eyes meet violet, and the next words are spoken to both dragon and mother.  
  
“ _You’ll be okay._ ”  
  
 ** _~IYHIBYT~_**  
  
Sansa holds back the urge to sigh in frustration. Her eyes track every face at the table in front of her. Some of the Northern lords, those who stayed behind to help Winterfell rebuild, are gathered in the war chamber.  
  
News of Whitehill going against the King in the North has reached most of them. Thus, they are all gathered to discuss the consequences of this treason. The Lord of Highpoint is absent, however, which doesn’t help the accusations.  
  
While this is all frustrating and time consuming, what really worries Sansa is a separate message that her sister sent her. Arya detailed how she’s now the one in charge of the Northern army, not Jon.  
  
That means Arya will be able to get closer to the Queen without any excuse as she’s now a war commander. And Sansa has no doubt that the Northmen will follow her sister. Starks are a beacon to the people, and they will follow their House no matter what, especially if the one in charge is the one who saved Westeros from the undead.  
  
But does Arya know what she’s doing? From what she can tell from the letter, Arya basically usurped Jon, who had been named King in the North by the people and Lords of the North – despite being a bastard.  
  
No, a _Targaryen_.  
  
Sansa tries not to sigh again.  
  
Never mind who Jon is, what matters is that Arya willingly went against the proclamation of the Lords. Once they find this out, will the Lords accept Arya as the power in the North, as Queen in the North? Tradition dictates that Bran is the true heir of Winterfell, but he didn’t want his claim. Technically, it’s Sansa’s seat now but if something were to happen to her, then it’s Arya’s.  
  
Jon, as a bastard in the eyes of the men, has no claim to any seat. And yet, they chose him as their King. Arya has now challenged this, and Queen Daenerys willingly accepted this change.  
  
The army will follow Arya willingly to their deaths, but will the political vultures do the same?  
  
 _‘Oh, Arya, what have you done now?’_  
  
Sansa ignores the sudden ruckus Tormund makes – something about a giant – and turns to look at her little brother.  
  
Bran, for his part, has not been paying attention to this political back and forth. His only focus right now is finding an alternate ending to the burning of King’s Landing in his visions and grabbing onto it tightly.  
  
Every night, he’ll drag Sansa into his room, and they’ll discuss what could possibly change the tide to their favor. Bran will then take a glimpse into the future.  
  
Every night, it’s the same answer.  
  
King’s Landing burns.  
  
Bran only hopes that Arya knows what she’s doing, and that if all else fails, she’s willing to do what needs to be done.  
  
He makes eye contact with Sansa and offers a small dry smile. She discreetly rolls her eyes at him playfully but a crash near the other end of the table captures her attention.  
  
Just as she stands to call order to the room, Bran feels his body tense and a blinding headache announce itself. He closes his eyes and feels them rolling back into his head, his body drooping in his chair.  
  
 _Bran opens his eyes slowly, light falling all around him. He looks around and notices all the pillars surrounding him. He recognizes this place somehow, despite knowing he’s never been here. It looks different than recent visions he’s had.  
  
Usually, nowadays, his visions are mostly full of ash and fire.  
  
Bran hears a rumbling further to his left and follows the noise. He comes upon an opening inside of the Keep, light shining down onto a beautifully painted map of Westeros on the ground.  
  
However, what catches his attention is the two people in the middle of the open area. Someone is laying on the ground while the other person is kneeled by them. All around them are piles of debris and stones, pillars falling to the ground.  
  
Another rumbling noise surrounds him but this time, he feels the ground underneath him shake. He glances up just in time to see a black and red dragon soaring through the sky, spitting fire towards a far-off target. On the dragon’s back is a tiny dot of white, and he immediately knows what’s happening.  
  
The Burning of King’s Landing.  
  
This is weird. He usually has visions of the aftermath. Or it feels like he’s floating in the air, watching from above as Daenerys lays waste to the Red Keep. He’s never been inside while the destruction was happening.  
  
This is unusual, and he has a bad feeling about this vision.  
  
A cough has him directing his attention to the two people in front of him. He steps closer, almost gliding on the ground, in order to get a better look.  
  
What he sees has him stopping in his tracks.  
  
Arya, bloodied and covered in ash, laying on the ground. Cersei is kneeling beside her, also covered in ash and a bleeding gash across her forehead.  
  
With a dagger pressing into Arya’s abdomen.  
  
Arya’s left hand is pinned to the ground by a sword through her palm while her right is holding onto her stomach, blood spilling out through her fingers. Her right knee is twisted in a weird angle and she has a bloodied gash running down her thigh.  
  
There are over a dozen bodies littered all around the room, all of them wearing the Queensguard armor.  
  
His little sister didn’t go down without a fight.  
  
Arya cries out in pain as Cersei twists the blade deeper into her body, a wicked grin on the Lannister’s face.  
  
“You’ve lived a longer life than I ever expected, Arya Stark,” Cersei snarls into the girl’s face. “But that ends today. If I die here, I’ll die knowing I was able to kill off yet another Stark.”  
  
Arya, ever the fighter, spits blood up into the Queen’s face. “Fuck you.”  
  
Cersei laughs, taking the dagger out, only to thrust it into the Northerner’s chest. Arya grits her teeth, trying her best not to let the older woman know just how much pain she’s in.  
  
Bran flinches and steps further in, falling to his knees near his sister’s head. He watches, desperate and helplessly, as Cersei grabs the front of Arya’s leather armor and brings her up closer.  
  
Cersei lets go of the dagger’s hilt to trace the three-headed dragon pin right above the Stark’s heart. “You decided to serve the wrong Queen, and now you’ll pay with your life.”  
  
Arya is harshly dropped back to the ground, her eyes closing at the way her head impacts the ground.  
  
The blonde leans in towards the girl, “I’ve killed your father, mother and brothers. My army is currently making short work of your bastard brother. Then after I’m done with you, and your Queen’s head is mounted on the walls of the Red Keep – just like your father’s was – I’m going to march North and kill the rest of your siblings.”  
  
Dull gray eyes open to stare into green and a weak snarl graces Arya’s lips. “You’ll never defeat Daenerys, and you’ll never get your hands on Sansa ever again.”  
  
Cersei laughs again and stands. From the shadows, a tall, lone figure appears, looming behind the Queen in a protective manner.  
  
“We’ll see,” Cersei smirks and turns to walk away.  
  
Bran watches in horror as The Mountain steps towards his sister, unsheathing his broadsword.  
  
Arya tenses when she sees him getting closer then slumps further into the ground in defeat. She closes her eyes briefly, takes a shuddering, pained breath then opens her gray eyes to stare into his deep blue ones.  
  
She smiles softly at him and whispers, “I’m sorry, Bran. I failed you and Sansa.”  
  
As if agreeing with her statement, a green dragon flies overhead, roaring loudly in rage and spitting fire at one of the spires of the Red Keep.  
  
Bran shakes his head slowly, the back of his eyes stinging. “No, Arya, you tried your best.”  
  
Arya chuckles slightly, her mirth quickly turning into wheezing coughs. Bran goes to pat her back and comfort her but his hand passes through her, as if he was made of air.  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees The Mountain loom closer.  
  
Arya looks at him again, the hand holding her stomach reaching up slowly to trace the dragon pin on her chest. “No, Bran, I was selfish. I thought I could do it, could resist it but it won in the end.”  
  
Bran shakes his head harder this time and scoots closer to his older sister. “Do what? Resist what, Arya? What won?” He asks desperately, trying to seek answers as to what could have possibly led to this.  
  
Arya doesn’t answer – ignores him as if he wasn’t there at all. Instead, she faces The Mountain above her and glares.  
  
“Do your worst, you filth!”  
  
Bran watches in slow motion as The Mountain’s sword is raised high above his head before slashing down towards his sister’s neck.  
  
“No!”_  
  
Bran gasps deeply, blinking as his eyes return to normal. He pants heavily as he scans his surroundings.  
  
He's back in the war chamber, now empty save for a handful of people staring worriedly at him.  
  
Sansa’s concerned face comes into his view. “Bran, are you okay? Why are you crying?”  
  
It's at that question that Bran notices his wet cheeks, the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes. He once again scans the room, gaze landing on Jamie Lannister leaning against the far wall for a long moment.  
  
The former Kingsguard shifts uncomfortably under his stare, looking away.  
  
Bran focuses on Sansa again as his breathing returns to normal.  
  
“We need to ride for King’s Landing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life's kicking some ass right now. 
> 
> I was gonna include Missandei on this chapter but then it would've been a lot of overwhelming things happening in just one chapter.


End file.
